Dimitri's Academy Days x Who Comes First
by shinythings22
Summary: Ivan Zeklos transfers to the Siberian Academy, but there is a secret neither he nor Dimitri will acknowledge as both navigate the complications of dating Moroi and dhampir girls – and the threat of unusual strigoi attacks. FRIENDSHIP – NOT SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

_Everything Vampire Academy belongs to Richelle Mead!_

* * *

"What are you reading?"

The cafeteria was loud, dingy, and institutional green, with uncomfortable chairs and long lines of barracks-style tables. It was lunchtime, and it was crowded. Groups of Moroi and dhampirs clustered in their usual areas, generally self-segregating. Dimitri had found a quiet corner near a dark window. His tray was empty.

Malina Ivashkov pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. The fact that her leg brushed against his may have been an accident – he _was_ slouched in the cafeteria chair and he did have long legs – but it could also have been on purpose. Dimitri suppressed a sigh. Malina had asked in English – probably because the cover of his book showed a Roman typeset instead of a Cyrillic one. He was both impressed and resigned that she was being so observant. Just to be difficult, he answered in Russian.

"An American western."

She switched to Russian and feigned interest. "Oh? What's it about?"

On another day he might have told her. The Moroi girls had a bizarre fascination with him, and it was almost fun sometimes to see their eyes glaze over while pretending to understand his near-obsession with the American Old West. Today, though, he really did want to be left alone.

Her leg brushed against his again. Still could have been an accident. He closed the book and sat up in his chair. "Just about a guy – Shane – who was kind of a guardian. I doubt you'd be interested."

She reached across the table and put her hand over his, and her foot brushed over his ankle bone and up his calf, just a little. Definitely not an accident. He forced himself to meet her eyes. She was pretty, he admitted to himself, but most Moroi were. Malina in particular had the green eyes that ran so prominently through the Ivashkov family tree, and hers were surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her hair was dark also, and her curls spiraled down to the middle of her back. He did like long hair. Too bad today he had other things on his mind.

"What makes you think I wouldn't be interested?" Her voice was playful, and more than a little suggestive.

He didn't answer, but without meaning to, his eyes flicked over to an especially crowded table of royals. Still touching him, she turned her head. "What?"

He shook his head and pulled his hand away.

She reached out again, confused this time, but stopped herself when she saw his face.

He stood up. "I'll be late for practice." He pushed away from the table with a little more force than necessary. He felt her eyes follow him as he walked away.

* * *

_Author's note - thanks for checking out my new story! If you've author-alerted me from my other, M-rated HON story, don't worry, I'm still working hard on it and I promise a new chapter by the 21st! This is what I've been working on when my writer's block gets too bad, and it's taken on a life of its own. It's a very different story and a different style, so I hope you like it._

_Review and let me know what you think of this bit!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Vampire Academy belongs to Richelle Mead!_

* * *

Practice was both a welcome distraction and a relief. Ivan Zeklos had been in every one of Dimitri's classes that morning. There had been no warning, he had simply walked into first period Comparative Literature and took an empty seat near the front of the class. He did the same in Calculus, Advanced Biology, and Moroi Political Science. None of the professors seemed surprised, but the students – Moroi and dhampir alike – buzzed with interest. There were no opportunities to talk during class, but between classes Zeklos introduced himself, learned the names of his new classmates, and fielded questions like an experienced politician.

Yes, he was a senior.

Yes, he was aware that there were only three and a half months before graduation.

Yes, he was aware he had already missed the first two weeks of classes after winter break.

No, he had not been assigned a room or roommate yet.

No, he was not familiar at all with the area.

Yes, he had just transferred from the St. Petersburg Academy, and yes, he was enjoying the unseasonably warm weather here in Siberia.

And no, since no one had asked, he had _not_ burned down the gymnasium at the St. Petersburg Academy, but he would very much appreciate help starting that rumor.

By lunchtime, Zeklos had met and charmed a good portion of the student body. Dimitri had been – and continued to be - rattled. He had recognized Zeklos immediately, there was simply no question. "Zeklos" was a common enough royal name, but the resemblance was too strong. He hoped he'd imagined it, but Zeklos seemed to recognize him, as well. He'd stared at Dimitri intently in the cafeteria, and had seemed about to approach when a group of royals flocked around him. Zeklos hadn't protested, and had handled the newest onslaught of Moroi with an easy charisma that had Dimitri gritting his teeth. Dimitri had tried to lose himself in the Old West, but Malina had interrupted even that brief escape.

By the time he arrived at practice, it was a relief to be able to hit something.

Luckily, today's class had been changed to freestyle sparring. The usual out-of-bounds still applied, but there were no restrictions on technique or force used. In fact, they were encouraged to not hold back. The other novices laughed, joked, and gossiped while they practiced, but Dimitri stayed quiet. His silence wasn't unusual. He wasn't shy; he simply preferred to stay focused. Today, though, he couldn't have said anything if he'd wanted to.

He won his first half-dozen matchups without breaking a sweat. His seventh, with his friend Sasha, ended the same.

"I'm done." Sasha was on the ground, trying to catch his breath. Dimitri extended a hand to help him up. "You're unstoppable today, my friend."

Dimitri simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Good technique," Guardian Nikitin said, stepping in. "But let's work on your accuracy. Your strength is an asset, but you need to make sure all that power is used, not wasted."

Dimitri worked with Guardian Nikitin until break, glad to lose himself in the martial arts drills. After break, Guardian Nikitin had the novices sit in a circle, dojo-style, and stood in the center.

"What is our primary function?" Guardian Ershova would have screamed the question, like a boot camp instructor. Guardian Nikitin's speech was clipped, intense, but he did not yell. He paced in the center of the circle, fixing his stare on the novices, encouraging them to answer.

"Kill Strigoi," Sasha volunteered, and most of the novices murmured and nodded in agreement.

"Exactly the answer I wanted, thank you Mister Kovalev. And exactly wrong. Care to guess again?"

Silence from the novices. Nikitin smiled, but continued to pace.

"Our primary function is to protect Moroi."

"Isn't that the same thing?" another novice asked.

"In some respects, yes, in others, a crucial and distinct difference. Remember, as long as you protect your Moroi, inaction - even retreat - is a viable option. We would all prefer to eliminate the Strigoi threat and have trained you accordingly. However, today the faculty wants to be sure you understand your role."

"What's so special about today?" Katya asked. Dimitri smiled for the first time since breakfast. Katya was sharp and missed little. She was also one of the top novices, and a friend.

"Why am I telling you this today? Strigoi are in the area." He paused, expecting the resulting clamor from the novices. He strode around in the inner perimeter of the circle, keeping them all seated and at attention despite the generally held desire to jump up and take action, any action. "Exactly," he said, and his confidence helped quiet the circle.

"How close are they and what do we know?" Dimitri asked, and Nikitin nodded in approval.

"We have been monitoring human news, internet reports, and police radio. When you know the patterns to look for – something you will all be learning very soon – sightings and attacks are easily identifiable. No Moroi have been targeted, no Moroi have been approached, and no guardians have been challenged. Campus is safe: nothing within a fifty mile radius of our wards. However, in the last two days, Strigoi activity has shown a marked increase. We – the faculty – have therefore decided to utilize this as a real world test and are rearranging your syllabi as we speak.

"You will report to Guardian Petrov at the monitoring station next period. Advance Bodyguard Techniques will be rescheduled. Please be prepared for extra work and extra classes. I, for one, am grateful to the Strigoi. This will make you all better guardians. Any questions?"

"So you're saying we're not hunting them down?" Sasha asked carefully.

"Exactly," Nikitin clapped his hands together and continued to pace, now fixing his stare on each novice in turn. "We are not an army. We guard. We protect. No matter how satisfying it would be to hunt these Strigoi and give them a final death, that is not our function. Please keep this in mind in the coming days. Any more questions?"

The novices grumbled quietly, but no one had questions that would elicit different answers. Nikitin dismissed them, and they cut across the starlit campus in pairs and small groups. They speculated on their new workload, if campus was truly safe, and what circumstances would allow them to be the army Nikitin insisted they were not.

* * *

_I'm so excited for Spirit Bound tomorrow! I'm a little nervous, too! I'm wondering if Ivan - or anything about him or the circumstances of his death - will ever come up again in these last two books. __I've been living with "my" idea of Ivan and Dimitri's history for a while now, and I've got it all worked out in my head in such detail that it's going to be weird to see if Richelle brings Ivan up again / what Richelle really has planned!  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_Vampire Academy = all Richelle Mead_

* * *

Katya was fast, but he was faster, flipping her over his shoulder as she charged him from behind. Though she wouldn't thank him for it, he helped her land softly.

She flipped herself over onto all fours and was standing, facing him, just a second or so after he'd straightened himself up. She shook her head, making her short blonde curls bounce. "One of these days that's going to work."

He smiled. "Never."

He stepped around her and kept walking. She fell into step easily with him, despite his longer stride.

"What do you think about the Strigoi?" she asked.

"I think they're being too cautious. They've trained us, they know what we're capable of. Why wait for the Strigoi to attack? Why don't we hunt them down?" he surprised himself; he wouldn't ordinarily have said that out loud. But this was Katya.

"Care to say that to Nikitin?" she had a mischievous glint in her eye.

"No, thanks," he grinned. "How about you?"

"Still gathering information," she answered. "Speaking of - what did Malina want at lunch?"

He hadn't really thought any more about her. "I'm not sure."

She laughed. "Right. You've been working 'tall, dark, and mysterious' since we all hit puberty.

He laughed, too, only a little embarrassed. "I don't do it on purpose."

She elbowed him, which he expected, but he let her. "I know you don't, that's one of the reasons it works so well for you. So are you going to ask her out?"

His smile turned wry. "Somehow, unless I flat out tell them to get lost, they find me anyway."

"And you're too much of a gentleman to tell them to get lost so…"

He grinned. "It's a good thing my mom taught me to do my own laundry so I always have clean sheets."

"Ugh!" she tossed her head and rolled her eyes at him, and he could see her calculating if she could get a full hit in. He positioned his arm slightly, ready for the block, but she apparently decided to let it go. She was one of the best novices, next to him of course, and their sparring – both verbal and physical – was standard interaction between them. He thought he'd won this round until she added, "Well it's not just _Moroi_ girls who get to have fun. Did you see the new Zeklos? Ivan?" She fanned herself with her hand. "_Hot."_

She'd gotten him, but he didn't care. His voice turned hard. "Stay away from him."

"Excuse me?"

He'd caught her completely off guard, but he wasn't playing now. "I said stay away from him."

"You can't tell me what to do!" She was shocked, offended, and very confused. "When did you turn Neanderthal?"

He couldn't explain so he stayed quiet, his mood dark. "Seriously!" she went for an open-handed smack to his stomach and he let her, he just but didn't give her any indication that he'd actually felt it. He knew better, he did – he'd been raised by and with strong women – but the thought of Zeklos with his hands on her made him see red. "Are you – jealous?" she threw out, completely lost. "I thought we were past that!"

He shook his head irritably. He _had_ liked her, as more than a friend, and they'd hooked up a few times sophomore year. She wasn't quite his type – Malina definitely held more surface physical attraction - but Katya had a confidence and spark that he'd found irresistible. She, however, wasn't into him, and could never explain to his satisfaction why not. She'd done her best to let him down easy, though, and in the past two years had followed through on her promise that she wanted to stay friends. Now they interacted more like siblings or affectionate rivals, and he rarely thought of her in romantic terms any more.

He wasn't thinking of her in that way now, really, he wasn't. He took a few quiet, deep breaths and got himself under control. "You're my friend. I don't want you to get hurt."

She narrowed her eyes at him, still keeping pace as he stalked his way across the commons. She seemed to debate her response, and finally settled on an intentionally lighter tone, "I appreciate the big brother act, but you can let it go. I might not be able to kick your ass, but I can take care of myself."

He bit back his response and nodded tightly. He knew she was right, but childhood memories were burned in at a less-than-rational level.

"Will you be my partner at monitoring if they have us pair up?" she asked, still studying him. They were almost at the station doors.

He sighed. The last thing he wanted was to alienate Katya. "Sure."

* * *

_No Spirit Bound yet! Amazon is making me cry!_

_Just a note about my characterization / thought process for my story so far. Rose thought Dimitri was - um - "skilled". Yes, he was her first, but he wasn't the fumble-around type either. And the guys I know like Dimitri - good looking, quiet, and in general decent people - have girls throwing themselves at them, and they don't exactly object. I figure Dimitri probably got a lot of action, then Ivan died and he got much more serious about everything in his life. I also think it's really possible that he liked some other girls a lot - maybe even loved them - before he fell in love with Rose. So I've tried to split Rose's personality between Malina and Katya, to set the stage for how easy it was for him to be tempted, and fall in love with Rose. (Especially, as her teacher, he should have been on guard against developing any feelings for a young student...)  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Everything Vampire Academy belongs to Richelle Mead, I'm just playing with her stuff :-D._

* * *

Once inside the monitoring station, Katya acted as if nothing had happened, so Dimitri did his best to act normal, too. He focused on the new class material, both to learn the new skills and to ignore the mess inside his head. Ivan Zeklos was here and there was nothing he could do about it – at least not until Zeklos dropped the Prince Charming act and showed his true nature.

Forgetting about Zeklos turned out to be fairly easy in the face of the effort required for monitoring. The class was long and Dimitri found the new challenges mentally exhausting. Hunting Strigoi through endless surveillance video, local law enforcement reports and real-time radio chatter, internet social media, internet news, and local news feeds took a whole different skill set. He hated it.

Monitoring was usually an elective class for the novices. Personal protection for the Moroi was simply too important: with the dhampir population decreasing (and the enrollment in the academies decreasing even more), the novice curriculum stressed physical defense skills and bodyguard surveillance. Monitoring and advanced notice of Strigoi movements was still needed, but was generally undertaken by injured or disabled guardians, or occasionally, non-royal Moroi. Novices who showed exceptional aptitude or interest in monitoring were encouraged to learn and refine those skills, but only as an adjunct to one-on-one protection.

"I've figured out why they've suddenly made monitoring mandatory," Katya said in an undertone to Dimitri after nearly an hour of working together. "I've actually got it narrowed down to two possibilities. One, they've realized that they haven't been using us as slave labor nearly enough. Two, they hate us."

They were reviewing video from a human hotel frequented by Moroi. Strigoi moved so quickly that humans could rarely – if ever – notice them on video, and even if they did, the Strigoi would only be on the film for a frame or two and would likely be dismissed as a glitch. The old guardian in charge of monitoring, Guardian Petrov, had been excited about video computer software in development in America, but it was at least six months from release. That left dhampir visual acuity as the most effective – though excruciatingly mind-numbing - method for identifying Strigoi movement.

Dimitri didn't smile. He was used to Katya's snark, and knew that if he gave her any reaction it would only encourage her – and experience had taught him that encouraging her only got them both in trouble. He enjoyed her irreverence, though, and she knew it. Novice training was difficult; being a guardian would be even more so. Dimitri was serious by nature, but he appreciated Katya's ability to find humor in almost any situation.

"I think they are more concerned than they are admitting," Dimitri murmured instead. He noted the mismatched, rickety, extra tables crowding the small station, and the practically antique computers, viewing screens, and radios that had been pressed into service. Guardian Petrov had even introduced them to two truly ancient beasts he called a CB radio and a HAM radio. When considering those possibilities, Dimitri was somewhat grateful that he and Katya had drawn video monitoring. At least with video they were allowed to talk - as long as they kept their attention on the screen.

"I don't know what they expect," Katya continued, voice low. "We see a Strigoi at the Sibir Hotel. What next? We're not allowed to hunt them down, so really, what? Send a greeting card to the basement? 'Dear Strigoi: we see you. Please don't kill anyone. KTHXBAI'."

Sasha, overhearing Katya's American internet lolspeak, made a choking noise. Dimitri mentally counted to ten. Katya grinned wickedly, mimed licking her finger, and - making sure no instructors were looking - drew a quick line in the air.

Dimitri managed to keep his composure and shook his head. Katya, acknowledging that she'd taken the joke as far as she could, smiled, sighed, and settled her chin in her hands, focusing on the screen again. That was something else Dimitri appreciated about Katya: she joked and teased, but she knew that their training and ultimate responsibilities were vitally important. Her irreverent observations and snark rarely got in the way – she excelled at virtually every task they were given.

As class went on, the novices – even Katya – became more and more quiet and slightly grim. Katya and Dimitri scanned through just over forty hours of video in the three-hour class, and they found Strigoi. Just one Strigoi, but in a hotel with Moroi, one was too many. Their classmates had similar bad luck, finding evidence of at least six more Strigoi. All seven were far from campus; the furthest, Dimitri and Katya's sighting in the Novosibirsk hotel over four hours away, the nearest, an internet blogger describing activity in abandoned rail tunnels located about an hour from the academy. However, one other reason monitoring had such a low priority among the guardians was simply because Strigoi excelled at evading detection. The fact that seven had failed to escape the notice of a small group of novices was especially troubling.

Unfortunately – or possibly, fortunately – the novices lacked information, and Guardian Petrov would only say that they would learn more as necessary in the coming weeks. They were finally dismissed and left the building as a group, unconsciously walking to the cafeteria en masse. Dimitri, Katya, and Sasha clustered together at the outer edge of the group.

"Why do I feel like we're living at the center of a target?" Katya muttered.

Dimitri started to shrug, then mentally plotted the sightings. She was right. They had found no Strigoi in a wide radius from the academy, but after that, the sightings were scattered in a wide, uneven circle. Theoretically, if the academy was a target… He tried to dismiss it as coincidence, as an artifact of how the monitoring was done, but he felt uneasy all the same.

"I doubt it," Sasha said; their logical, practical friend. "It would take a lot more than seven Strigoi to be any threat to the school. We've got the wards, the guardians, and us. There must be something else going on."

"You're probably right," Katya answered, shaking off her grim mood. Her eyes lit up as they entered the cafeteria. "I'm going to go sit with them," she pointed out a group of non-royal Moroi friends. "Join me?"

Dimitri was relieved that she didn't point to the table of royals nearby, but his bad mood returned. "Thanks," he managed, "maybe another day."

* * *

_I finally got Spirit Bound and I finished it! I'm dying to talk about it but I'll be good :-D. I don't think it's a spoiler to share that there's not a word about Ivan! On one hand I'm almost disappointed because I am so positive I am right about his connection to Dimitri! On the other hand, I feel better not being right because I know I can't ever measure up to whatever Richelle actually has in mind, so now I feel more free to "play"._

_I have lots of visitors to this story and I'd love more reviews… (though I definitely appreciate the ones I've gotten so far!).  
_

_Thank you for reading!_

_Oh! Edited thanks to my best reviewer! Novosibirsk is quite a ways away from the academy - I remembered it wrong! Thank you!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Still playing in Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy playground._

_

* * *

_

Dimitri ate dinner alone and escaped to his room. He was in bed, reading, when someone knocked at his door. He opened it, and Malina entered without him inviting her in.

He wasn't any happier to see her now than he'd been at lunch, but despite a few mis-steps in his life, he'd been trained too well – he couldn't be outright rude to a Moroi. It was against the rules for girls to be in the boys' dorms, but he'd never seriously paid attention to those rules before. He pulled out the desk chair for her. She sat on his bed.

He tried to hide his irritation and sat on the chair. "What do you want?"

"Why aren't you at the party?" She tossed her long coat on the bed and sat back against the headboard. She curled her legs up on the bed, looking completely relaxed. She was dressed up in a short wool skirt and tights and a soft-looking green sweater that matched her eyes. Her hair was down and loose, and her dark curls cascaded over her shoulders. Dimitri tore his eyes away.

"Not interested."

"Why not?"

He ignored the question. "Why aren't you there?" He'd heard the invitation during dinner – a class-wide word-of-mouth rather than a formal initiation or announcement – but he'd ignored it. He definitely wasn't in the mood for a party.

"I was there. I came to see if you'd go back with me."

That stopped him. He hadn't been bragging or exaggerating to Katya – most of the Moroi girls who showed an interest were only interested in sleeping with him. He must have misunderstood her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean as my date, silly," she smiled.

He studied her more carefully. She looked slightly seductive and very serious. It wasn't unheard of for Moroi girls to openly date dhampir guys, but he'd always been reserved enough around Moroi that actual dating hadn't been much of an issue. He raised one eyebrow. "You're asking me out?"

She rolled her eyes, reminding him a little of Katya. "Of course."

He debated. He had been hiding out, not wanting to get dragged to the party by his fellow novices. Malina's relaxed, open interest in him was quickly becoming more flattering that irritating, though. Ivan Zeklos would be at the party, he was sure, but maybe it was best to get that meeting over with.

He was still cautious. "Okay?"

She hesitated, then leaned forward and smiled a different kind of smile – less serious and sweeter somehow, almost shy. "I like you, Dimitri. Everything is going to change when we graduate, and I just don't want to miss the chance to get to know you before everything is different."

That smile decided him. She was royal Moroi so her confidence in pursuing him could easily be arrogance or entitlement, but despite some of his other experiences in life, he did know that "royal" did not automatically mean brainless or heartless. That smile said she might actually be telling the truth. It couldn't hurt to take her at her word. He gave her a half smile in return. "We've had classes together. We've done projects together. Why now?"

The confident vixen smile returned. "Come out with me tonight and I'll tell you later if you still want to know."

He had to admire her tactics. He tried to negotiate a point of his own. "I'll go with you if we skip the party."

"Make an appearance with me at the party, then we can go somewhere else," she countered. "I promised Ivan I'd introduce you."

"Did Zeklos tell you to come up and get me?" his voice turned cold in an instant. He had no idea what kind of games Zeklos could be playing.

Shock and real hurt crossed her face, as well as a flash of anger. "I'm not a puppet. Ivan saw me talking to you at lunch. He assumed we were going out. He wants to meet you."

"Why?"

"I don't know! He's new! You're the best novice, maybe he wants to get to know you, see if you'd be his guardian after graduation." He'd offended her, badly. It was Katya all over again. "Why are you acting like this?"

He took a second to get his temper under control. He met her eyes and forced himself to apologize. His issues were not her fault. "I'm sorry." He had to give her more than that. "If it's that important, I'll go to the party with you, at least long enough to meet Ivan Zeklos and see what he wants."

She still looked angry. He wasn't sure if he was really interested in her, or just willing to go out with her simply because she was pretty and intriguing and because she'd asked, but he was sorry he'd snapped at her. "Really. I'm sorry." He gave her another half smile.

"Okay," she said finally. She smiled at him again, more cautiously this time, and confusion and speculation replaced her anger. She picked up his book from his nightstand and opened it, but let her eyes linger over his bare chest and drawstring sweats before focusing on the page. He felt oddly exposed, but also a little proud as she seemed to like what she saw. "I'll read while you get dressed."

* * *

_This bit was one of the first parts of the story that I wrote, so I was able to edit it fairly quickly for posting. Okay, gotta get back to HON :-D. Thank you so much for reading! I know it's starting slow but things are building, I promise!_


	6. Chapter 6

_All Richelle Mead's..._

* * *

They were getting close enough to the party to hear the thumping bass of the music and the general din of people talking and yelling. They were walking hand in hand. As soon as they'd left his dorm room she'd entwined her fingers with his and he'd let her. Something about him – his quiet nature, maybe - made girls, especially Moroi girls, unaccountable bold. He rarely had to do anything and girls were practically falling in bed with him. Katya had been different – he'd pursued her, she'd given him a fair chance and ultimately she ended things with a 'I really want us to stay friends' – but he hadn't really dated much other than that. He'd had quite a few girls share his bed, but that wasn't exactly dating. Malina asking him out was new, and… nice.

He found himself holding her hand a little tighter as they got closer to the party, and when he noticed, he intentionally relaxed his grip. She noticed the changes in pressure and glanced over at him, the question in her eyes. When he looked away, she let go of his hand and slipped her arm around his waist.

He was still taller than her, unusual in a dhampir-Moroi pairing, but she didn't seem to mind. She smiled up at him and squeezed his ribs. "I am going to make that scowl go away tonight, I swear I will."

He sighed and forced the muscles in his arms and back to relax, but couldn't quite make himself return her smile. "Sorry."

She laughed, sounding completely relaxed. "Nothing to be sorry for." They reached the edge of the party, and Dimitri estimated that most of the seniors and a good portion of the juniors were attending. Whoever had started the party had chosen a good spot – a fairly large cluster of trees on the eastern side of the grounds, on a hill sloping away from campus. Well within the boundaries of the wards, and obviously still in the usual patrol of the guardians, but far enough from the dorms that the guardians on duty tonight could "overlook" the gathering as long as it stayed under control.

A few people had brought music, the moonlight provided enough light, and quite a few bottles of vodka were being passed around. Most people had brought blankets to sit on, (or in the case of a few couples on the edge of the party and farther back in the trees, wrap themselves together in) and Dimitri's sharp eyes caught a few other substances being passed around on the periphery of the group. Malina led him straight into the middle of the party; a cluster of royals sitting on a few thick blankets, talking and sharing top shelf vodka and bootleg American beer. Ivan Zeklos was facing away from them, but turned and stood when Malina called.

"Ivan! Delivering one Dimitri Belikov, as ordered, sir!"

Dimitri stiffened and nearly turned away, then belatedly caught the teasing mischief in her tone.

Ivan raised one eyebrow and glanced between Dimitri and Malina, taking in Dimitri's scowl and Malina's grin. He grabbed Malina's hand and bowed low over it, exaggerating the kiss he pressed against her fingers. "Thank you, milady." He straightened and offered his hand to Dimitri. "Ivan Zeklos."

Dimitri returned the handclasp. "Dimitri Belikov." He forced himself to meet Ivan's eyes. He couldn't help noting that Zeklos was exactly his height, though Ivan's build was Moroi-slim. Dimitri was lean for a dhampir, but next to Ivan, the muscles he'd built over years of training were practically bulky. As he'd expected, he was immediately irritated by Zeklos's cocky smile and general self-confidence. "Malina said you wanted to meet me."

"Yes," Ivan answered, "I just transferred from the St. Petersburg academy, and my mother is pressuring me to make friends." "Friends", Dimitri knew, meant connecting with other royals and guardians-to-be, laying groundwork for the future.

They were interrupted by another Moroi – one of the Badica twins - throwing a blanket at them. "Sit!"

Ivan snagged a vodka and a blanket of his own and motioned to an open spot at the edge of the group. Dimitri almost hesitated, but politeness dictated he make some effort.

Then Malina surprised him. She stepped in front of him, almost protective, though her voice stayed casual. "I promised Dimitri we didn't have to stay long."

Ivan took the blanket from her and tossed it out on the ground next to his. "But he wants to stay, don't you, Belikov?"

Malina stepped back to Dimitri and slipped her arm around his waist. "We can go," she said, almost a question, looking up at him.

He couldn't figure her out. "It's okay."

She was still looking at him. "Just a little while, then."

Ivan raised an eyebrow at them and passed the bottle to Dimitri. "All right," he offered, lost in their odd exchange.

They sat, and Malina kept a loose hold on Dimitri's hand. He took a swallow of vodka and passed the bottle to her. "Why did you transfer?" Dimitri asked Ivan. He'd made the choice to stay, and he was curious in spite of himself. He tried to match Malina's casual tone, but even in his own ears the question was practically an accusation.

Ivan stared at him. "Long story," he said finally. "Let's just say the official reason is that my family has business here in Siberia, so I thought it would be good to go to school down here."

"And the unofficial reason?" Dimitri's voice was still harsh. Malina's hand tightened in his.

Ivan waved away the question but seemed oblivious to Dimitri's tone. "Not as interesting as you might think." Malina handed the bottle to Ivan and he gave a short nod in thanks. "So what are your plans for the rest of the evening?"

Malina looked back at Dimitri. "Just hanging out. Dimitri doesn't like parties much." He was confused by how much she noticed about him.

Ivan leaned forward, confiding in her as if Dimitri wasn't there. "Don't tell anyone, but I don't either. Mind if I tag along?"

"What about making friends?" she asked in the same conspiratorial tone.

He threw his arms wide. "You choose."

"What?" she laughed.

"I'm a horrible judge of character," Ivan laughed in return. "Trust me, I'd be much better off if you chose friends for me."

She laughed again, but shook her head. "Maybe another day." She stood and offered her hand to Dimitri.

"How long have you been going out?" Ivan asked.

Malina looked at Dimitri. She flicked her eyes back to Ivan, inviting Dimitri to answer. He raised one eyebrow at her. "First date," he said, watching for her reaction. Laughter gone, she smiled at him, that sweet, almost shy smile. Dimitri found himself smiling back at her and surprised himself by wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Ivan looked back and forth between them, looking as confused as Dimitri felt. "Have a good night, then." He took another swallow of vodka and raised a hand in farewell.

As they moved away, though, Dimitri heard a familiar voice. "Hi. I'm Katya. Just wanted to introduce myself." Her voice was confident.

Ivan's voice was unexpectedly warm. "Well, hello, princess."

* * *

_Thank you for continuing to read! I love reviews, too *hint* *hint* :-D Thank you!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_Having so much fun playing in Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy playground..._

* * *

It took every bit of control Dimitri had to keep walking.

He could hear Ivan and Katya making casual conversation, comparing class schedules, and Katya offering to introduce Ivan to the other dhampirs. Ivan was completely polite and appropriate – aside from inappropriately calling her "princess" – but Dimitri's gut twisted at leaving her with him, unprotected.

"Are we done?" Malina asked quietly.

They were almost back at the dorms. He blinked, surprised, and – again – confused.

A bit of her previous bravado returned. "It's only proper that I walk you back to your room, since I asked you out."

He stopped and turned to face her. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You still like Katya," she shrugged.

"We're friends."

She didn't answer, and he realized he'd made a serious mis-step somehow. He looked around. The campus was empty and quiet, and dawn was still hours away. They had privacy, but he had no idea what to do. "Why did you ask me out?" She looked up. "You said you'd tell me."

She turned and started walking. "Last week," she said finally. "I've always noticed you, and the other girls… talk." The other girls he'd slept with. He wondered if he should deny it. "But last week in the cafeteria. The Badica twins were teasing Catherine." He thought back, placing Catherine as one of the quieter Moroi girls in their class, but wasn't sure of when Malina meant. "She's quiet, she's a little odd - she did that puppet show for parent's weekend last spring. She's not royal, she's not pretty, and I've never seen you say two words to her. But she helps me with my literature assignments and she's kind of my friend. But when the Badicas messed with her I stayed out of it. You didn't."

She stopped and Dimitri waited for her to finish. They were walking in a wide loop around the dorms. He was still confused. Standing up for the weak wasn't a desirable trait, at least not from a Russian perspective – especially a Russian royal. Dimitri had been seduced at an early age by American Western novels and loved the notion of protecting anyone who needed protecting, but he was painfully aware that this was an American view that would baffle even his guardian classmates. Was Malina making fun of him now?

She kept walking so he finally had to ask. "And?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes and he realized she was blushing. "I wished I was brave enough to stand up to them like that."

It took him a second to realize that she was afraid _he _would make fun of _her. _Was she actually saying that she wanted to be with him _because_ he had stood up for her friend?

He couldn't quite wrap his mind around that, so he didn't try. "Do you play pool?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'm good," he warned.

A slow smile spread across her face. "So am I."

* * *

At breakfast, everyone was talking about the Strigoi sighting. No one was hurt, not even the guardians who had tried to track her, but everyone was still shaken. She'd shown up in the middle of the night near the wards on the western side of campus and had been spotted by a lucky guardian patrol. The assumption was that she had been acting alone, but no one could remember a Strigoi being sighted near the grounds of any academy for decades, and no one was reassured by the singular sighting.

The guardians had ended the party after the sighting. Dimitri and Malina had been playing pool when everyone had been herded back into the dorms, and had been sent back to their rooms like everyone else. The watchful eyes of the guardians had kept their goodnights short and chaste – not that Dimitri had had expectations for anything else. He'd found himself genuinely enjoying Malina's company while they played, but he still couldn't figure her out.

Dimitri sat with the other novices, breakfast untouched, quiet but listening carefully to the theories being tossed around. The royals clustered together a few tables over in their usual section, getting louder around some argument Dimitri couldn't quite hear. He split his attention between the discussions at his table and theirs, and couldn't help notice that Malina was one of the most vocal. While he was watching, Ivan – who had remained silent through the debate at his table – stood up and made his way over to the novices.

Ivan seemed to consider the space next to Dimitri, then veered around the table to slide in next to Katya. He leaned down to put his head next to hers, speaking low. It was obvious - to Dimitri, anyway - that Zeklos was interested in more than Katya's high rank among the novices. Dimitri clenched his jaw and stared straight forward, distracted enough that he didn't even hear Ivan's question. Katya's voice cut through the mess inside his head. "What do you think, Dimitri?"

He covered for his preoccupation, meeting her eyes steadily and raising one eyebrow. Since he was looking right at her, he saw her bite the inside of her cheek to cover her smile. She knew him too well. "Malina is over there passionately defending your honor, sure that you're able to defend her from the imminent Strigoi invasion," Katya added, giving Dimitri a chance to catch up. "So is she right? Or should we all just go home?"

Ivan nudged her, and his lanky form next to her tiny one meant that the nudge was basically full body, shoulder to hip contact. "Don't cause trouble," he laughed, entirely too comfortable with her for Dimitri's liking. "Malina was just taking the guardian side in the debate. That's just royals talking, though. I want to hear what my new guardian friends think."

Dimitri had to take a moment. His overriding impulse was to knock Zeklos flat and save time, but that just couldn't happen yet - not without a clear reason. For the more immediate concern, he really couldn't see what all the fuss was about. It was just a sighting. He knew it was serious, and his unease from yesterday returned full force, but Sasha had been right: the wards would hold and their instructors and the school's guardians would protect them in the incredibly unlikely event that the wards were breached. As for Malina, she confused him yet again. She was championing the guardians' position? Usually the royals were quick to call for any kind of retreat.

"We're safe here," he shrugged.

Zeklos shrugged, the movement of his shoulders an eerie mirror of Dimitri's. "That's what I thought, too."

The novices, who had been oddly quiet during the exchange, cheered their agreement and launched into a new discussion of fighting techniques. Dimitri shifted uncomfortably. He and Zeklos agreed on something? Ivan raised one eyebrow at him, then turned his attention back to Katya.

* * *

_A question to my Russian readers, Russian studies majors, overseas readers... Am I right about protecting the weak being an American thing (or at least something that a lot of Americans *say * is important, not that we necessarily follow through)? My friend who is very interested in Russian studies told me that, and I thought it fit so well with Dimitri's love of American Western novels that I wanted to work it into the story, but I've only been to Russia once and can't be sure that he's right. Let me know!_

_Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think so far!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_Still playing in Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy playground..._

* * *

Malina passed him after breakfast on their way to class. She smiled at him, a big, pretty smile that still covered her fangs. She was wearing green again, and had her hair tied up, spilling down her back in a long, rippling, silky-looking pony tail.

Dimitri watched her walk away. The other Moroi girls he'd been with invariably drifted away after a week or two, but they were always friendly. Malina didn't stop.

Ivan caught up to him, obliterating any thought of Malina. "Belikov."

It took quite a bit of effort for Dimitri to keep his hands unclenched. "Zeklos."

"You didn't say any more while everyone was talking." Ivan said. He sounded unconcerned and casually friendly. "I agree that we're safe, but you have to admit any Strigoi sighting near campus is far from normal. Everyone tells me you're the best novice; you must have some ideas. What else are you thinking?"

Dimitri shrugged, and his muscles were so tight that the movement felt stiff and unnatural. "Strigoi go where Moroi are. That's why you have guardians."

Ivan just chuckled, and Dimitri nearly flinched. "Sounds like the standard guardian line. I promise I won't overshare and cause panic, I'm just curious. I've realized very recently that I don't know much about my friends who are going to get stuck protecting me. If I understand more how you think, maybe I can make someone's job easier when I'm assigned a guardian.

Dimitri refused to let his guard down but forced his shoulders to relax. Zeklos was right. Dimitri wasn't going to make the mistake of believing him, but at least Zeklos seemed to be approximating good behavior. "You don't need to worry about that."

He felt Zeklos's eyes on him but kept his own focus forward, refusing to engage him any more than necessary. Zeklos matched his long strides exactly, still watching him, and finally said quietly, "All right, I won't. But if you ever change your mind, I really am interested."

They walked the rest of the way in silence and entered Comparative Literature together, leaving the cool, silent, starlit outdoors behind them. Ivan broke off to sit in the seat he'd chosen the day before, and Dimitri chose a familiar spot much further back. Once at his seat Dimitri rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders, trying to work out the tension being around Zeklos ratcheted into his muscles. Familiar movement at the front of the class caught his eye.

Guardian Nikitin – not the class's Moroi professor - gave Dimitri a sharp nod in greeting when Dimitri looked up. "Good morning," Nikitin started after the bell, clapping his hands together. "You might be wondering why I am here this morning, but then again, if you've been paying attention to the rumor mill, maybe not." He smiled a humorless smile, and a few students – dhampir and Moroi – smiled back uncertainly.

"I am here because we had a _slightly_ concerning event late last night. As you may have heard, a Strigoi was a little bit too close for comfort. We don't think she'll be coming back, but we are taking extra precautions. Quite a few of us have been working most of the night, and we thought you might want to see what we've been doing while you were all sleeping.

"Please pair up, novices with Moroi. I know our numbers aren't quite even, so double up where you need to. We are heading to the wards, just remember, it _is_ dark out, so just to be on the safe side –" Dimitri could have sworn he heard dry humor in Nikitin's tone – "please no one step over the line."

The novices and Moroi grouped quickly, but Dimitri stood alone. He was out of his comfort zone, he simply wasn't one to socialize randomly. He couldn't help see Zeklos standing alone as well. Dimitri turned away quickly, but not before he saw Zeklos take a step toward him, an uncharacteristically cautious look on his face. Malina rescued him.

"Hi Dimitri," she said. She smiled uncertainly, then straightened her shoulders and raised her chin to look him in the eye. "You know Catherine."

The Moroi girl standing next to her nodded. "Hi Dimitri." He knew her – they'd all grown up together at the academy – but this was probably the first time they'd spoken since elementary school. He was surprised to see a quick intelligence in her eyes, not the shyness he expected from a girl so quiet and plain. "Thanks for getting the Badicas to leave me alone last week."

He remembered, now – the Badicas had been verbally harassing her and she'd tried to ignore them. He'd stepped in when they'd starting using their elements. He nodded, not sure what to say.

"Do you need Moroi?" Malina asked.

He half-smiled. "I think I do."

"Good, because we need a novice." She smiled back at him, but she was somehow cooler, less friendly than she'd been last night. Dimitri wasn't sure what to think. He was grateful that she helped him avoid Zeklos, but she'd gone from sweet and overly affectionate to almost superficially friendly. Ordinarily he wouldn't have bothered worrying, but he'd started to think Malina was different than the other Moroi girls he'd been with. Maybe he was wrong.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! _


	9. Chapter 9

_All Richelle Mead's..._

* * *

They walked outside, Dimitri dropping back a few steps to follow behind the girls. He hadn't been explicitly told to guard the Moroi, but the novices – and probably the Moroi, too – knew that had to be the purpose of the groupings. He and the girls walked in silence, hearing the other Moroi-novice groupings chattered quietly. Malina looked back at him more than once, her expression unreadable.

Dimitri stayed vigilant, cataloging the movement and location of every Moroi and novice, every shadow, and every tree – down to the stillness of the leaves in the calm, after-sundown air. He usually liked the trees but now he was irritated, they obstructed his view and created blind spots in his surveillance. His careful awareness of his surroundings also gave him information he would have preferred not to know: Zeklos had paired with Katya, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Nikitin led them across campus to the western wards. The western side of campus housed the physical plant, the generators, and the various other industrial machinery required to keep the large academy modern and functioning. It was a good choice for point of entry for the Strigoi, Dimitri realized. If by some chance she could have gotten through the wards she could have gotten far into campus before she was spotted.

The guardians had apparently had a similar realization. A good portion of the academy's guardian contingent was already there. "We need the wards redrawn," Nikitin told them, stopping and joining the others. Dimitri could barely see the four elemental specialization professors in the middle of the guardian phalanx. "As you can probably guess, we've been waiting rather anxiously for the sun to go down. We're going to be calling some names. Novices, please stick with your Moroi."

The earth specialization professor stepped closer to Nikitin. "This is all strictly voluntary. Malina Ivashkov."

Malina stepped up immediately and Dimitri followed, and four more Moroi were called in quick succession. There was a brief delay when the first student selected for air refused – clearly out of sheer terror – but very soon Malina, Catherine, a Badica twin, and Ivan Zeklos were conferring quietly with their professors. Dimitri and the other novices did their best to observe but not overhear.

Moroi specializations were generally obvious. Dimitri knew that Malina had specialized in earth and knew vaguely that Catherine specialized in water, and wasn't at all surprised that the Badica twin specialized in air. He _was_ unsettled to hear Zeklos called for fire. He'd tried not to think about it too deeply, but he'd just assumed Zeklos specialized in air. Having that assumption proved wrong bothered Dimitri nearly as much as their agreement at breakfast.

Nikitin selected a fourth novice to guard Catherine and the remaining novices reshuffled to include her former Moroi under their protection. Nikitin then pulled her, Dimitri, Katya, and the Badica twin's novice aside. "I want you very close to your Moroi," he explained, clipped and quietly intense as always. "Each professor has an assigned guardian and the line will guard outward, but the process kicks up a lot and impairs visibility quite a bit. The Moroi are taking advantage of the extra guardian protection to teach the warding process, so we would like to see you demonstrating your basic bodyguard technique. Nothing fancy, just do your job." He handed each a silver stake and took his place with the other guardians. The other three novices looked to Dimitri. The novices had only practiced with silver stakes, never held them in true defense of Moroi.

Dimitri met their eyes and nodded – they all knew this was serious. He tilted his head and they separated and re-paired with their Moroi. Ivan and Malina stood together, completely focused on their professors' wordless preparations, and Dimitri and Katya joined them. Catherine and the Badica twin stood a few steps away, and their novices did the same. Dimitri confirmed the formation with eye contact and a small hand gesture: one-to-one guard of their assigned Moroi with paired cross-coverage if necessary. He didn't try to be in charge, but his status among the novices made him the de facto leader of their small group.

The rest of the novices and Moroi stood a few meters back, a mixture of confusion and relief on their faces. Dimitri stepped closer to Malina. She was completely absorbed in her professors' movements, but her arm brushing against his sent a rush of inconvenient and inappropriate warmth through his body. Malina didn't seem to notice.

"What's going to happen?" Katya asked Ivan in a low voice.

The Badica twin glared over at her, but Ivan answered as if he was speaking to an equal. His voice was just as quiet, and his eyes stayed on his professors. "The wards are weak, and we're supposed to learn how to fix them.

"What did Nikitin mean by the problems with visibility?"

"I don't know, I've never seen it in person."

"I've never even heard it described," she whispered. "How does it work?" Dimitri really didn't like them talking, but Katya was asking smart questions, questions he should have asked Nikitin. He swallowed his visceral response and listened.

"It's fairly straightforward," Ivan whispered back. "Four specialized Moroi, one for each element. Earth makes the trench, water basically makes it into mud, air aerates the mixture – you should be able to see the bubbles-, and fire half turns it to steam and half bakes it all, sealing the elements all together."

"How did the wards get weak?" Katya asked, still quiet and very serious. Moroi almost never talked magic with the novices – Dimitri couldn't figure out Zeklos's angle on sharing - but since the wards were part of the Strigoi defense, it was a fair question.

"The best way to break a ward is with a silver stake infused with all the elements," Malina spoke up, just as quiet. Dimitri relaxed a little, hearing Malina answer instead of Zeklos. "Silver holds the magic the best – maximum power, just like in your stakes – but any metal will work. Unfortunately, the wards can be weakened by any kind of elemental disturbance – storms, earthquakes, fire - that's why they have to be re-drawn so often."

"Can a Strigoi get through a weakened barrier?" Katya asked, more curious than alarmed.

"Once it's drawn, all four elements have to be disturbed to break it completely, but if it's weakened, a Strigoi would have a better chance of finishing the job before she got caught."

"Of course, the Strigoi still couldn't touch the barrier," Ivan added to Malina's answer, "but there's ways to get around that. I'm convinced that after a big storm all a Strigoi would need would be a back hoe and a really big match." It was so much like something Katya would say that Dimitri wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"I'm confused," Katya continued, apparently not responding to Zeklos's comment. "If regular elements can break it, what about the magic?"

"That's pretty much graduate level elemental theory," Ivan answered. He lowered his voice even more so only Katya – and Dimitri – could hear. "But my personal theory is that there isn't any magic, it's just a different kind of skill, manipulating the elements. I figure we could even test it. Give a dhampir - or a human, even - a flamethrower, a garden tiller, a heavy-duty water hose, and a tank of compressed air and I bet they'd get the same result."

Zeklos took a quick look away from watching his professors, checking Katya's reaction. Dimitri only caught the glance by accident - he was watching the area around Malina - and Zeklos's expression unsettled him yet again. Zeklos looked mischievous, with a genuine warmth as he looked at Katya.

"You're not serious." Dimitri could barely hear her, but he could tell she was grinning.

"Half serious. But I'm glad I made you smile."

* * *

_Summer is apparently my writer's block season :-(, but I'm still working, just even more agonizingly slowly than usual! _

_Thank you again for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Vampire Academy is all Richelle Mead's..._

* * *

Dimitri's hand tightened around the stake. He couldn't let himself get taken in by Zeklos's charm. Some part of him wanted to believe it, but he knew from hard experience that it could change in an instant. He made himself focus on Malina's safety – not the horrors of his childhood.

As if she could feel the effort it took, she turned her head and met his eyes. Her green eyes softened to gray in the lights from the physical plant, and this time he read the emotion in them clearly. For reasons he couldn't fathom, she looked frustrated - and he wanted to fix it, whatever it was. Before he could act, she took a deep breath and smiled brightly at him, confusing him even more.

He missed the hand gesture that signaled the guardians to change formation, but luckily his place was with Malina. The guardians crossed in front of them, seeming to move in all directions at once. The flurry of movement resolved in seconds into a protective line of guardians that faced outward, crisp and straight and professional, two meters beyond the ward. Dimitri noted the spacing. Just as he'd been taught, they stood almost arms' width apart: close enough to give aid if attacked, but with enough room to fight without any accidental friendly interference.

"Cool," Ivan murmured to Katya. Dimitri clenched his teeth.

The Moroi professors and their guardians took their position next, and Dimitri almost jumped to stop the earth specialization professor from stepping over the ward boundary. Nikitin's warm, heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I thought you said 'no one step over the line'," Katya murmured to Nikitin.

"Inside joke," he murmured back.

The professor for fire and her guardian crossed next. The professors for water and air took their positions on the protected interior. "Go," Nikitin said in Dimitri's ear.

Dimitri's instincts screamed at him, but he followed orders. He crossed the line and Katya followed. Malina and Ivan joined them almost immediately. The Moroi students stood next to their professors, the professors' guardians close behind them; Dimitri placed himself and Katya between the Moroi and the guardian line, adding a third layer of protection. Though they were inside the magical protection of the ward, Catherine's and the Badica twin's novices did the same.

"You've got my back, right, Princess?" Ivan asked quietly. His words were flippant, but the charming lilt was gone.

"I've got you," Katya answered, just as quiet.

Outside the ward's protection, Dimitri couldn't spare the attention or the energy to worry about Zeklos. Malina's safety came first: his training made everything else fall away. She stood straight and confident, and he was almost fooled – until he saw the fear in her eyes. But she didn't back down - she didn't even reach for his hand. She watched her professors, serious and focused and determined to learn. Her shoulders relaxed slightly when he stepped closer to her. She trusted him to keep her safe.

Nikitin and another guardian took their final position a few meters behind the novices. Their placement seemed to be a signal: seconds later the air was filled with flying bits of earth and roiling steam. Nikitin had been right; visibility _was_ compromised, badly. Dimitri squinted, watching Malina as closely as he could, frustrated that his line of sight was restricted but reassured by the solid presence of the guardian line.

The process took much longer than Dimitri expected, almost twenty minutes to protect only two hundred meters of the academy's boundary. He stayed alert, struggling with the added challenges of the elemental storm, ready to assist Katya if needed and keeping regular eye contact with Nikitin. But nothing else happened – no Strigoi. The professors finished repairing the wards and crossed back over the line. Without being told, Dimitri and Katya coordinated quickly and wordlessly, pair-guarding to get their Moroi back to protected ground.

Malina stumbled a little on the inside of the line and Dimitri caught her hand. He didn't let go. They were being watched, but the test – and more importantly, the danger - was over. If he'd been less reserved, or if they'd been alone, he might have picked her up and spun her around, but he settled for holding her hand. A hint of that sweet, shy smile rewarded him.

Nikitin's voice rang out, carrying to include Dimitri's group and the rest of the class. "Thank you all for your careful attention. I think the rest of Comparative Literature can wait for tomorrow. Novices, debrief with one another. Moroi, see your professors with questions and concerns." He re-joined the rest of the guardians, closing the operation. Most of the guardians scattered and faded into different directions toward different parts of campus; just a few stayed, still guarding the class and herding them slowly back to the classrooms and gymnasium.

The four Moroi students clustered together and Dimitri and the other novices stayed close, subconsciously continuing to guard them. Ivan easily commanded their small group's attention as they moved slowly away from the ward.

Ivan dipped his head slightly, first to Katya, then to Dimitri. "Thank you," he said formally. Dimitri tensed again. Royal Moroi didn't thank their guardians.

Zeklos looked at the other three Moroi. "That was fun," he said. "Kind of anticlimactic. I'm almost disappointed that we didn't get attacked." Katya elbowed him and he grinned. He laid his arm across her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Not _that_ disappointed," he whispered, and if he'd been anyone else, Dimitri would have truly believed the protective note in his voice.

"Any ideas?" Ivan asked at a more normal volume. "I'll buy that it was useful, but we didn't have to learn the warding process less than twelve hours after a Strigoi sighting."

"Guardian Nikitin said your professors were just taking advantage of the extra guardian protection," Katya said, sliding her arm around Ivan's waist. He wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, tucking her closer to his body. Dimitri flashed back to a similar scene from his childhood. Malina held his hand more tightly, but he barely felt it.

"Damage control," Catherine spoke up, providing Dimitri a small, very welcome distraction. "They should never have allowed a Strigoi to get so close. They're scrambling, trying to prevent panic, from having your parents pull you out of school to somewhere where you're less protected." Harsh, but possibly accurate, Dimitri agreed silently, gratefully retreating to a guardian mindset. "They want you to tell your royal parents about our little exercise. The faculty wouldn't risk Moroi unless it was safe, and your parents know that. Putting us on the line proves there's no danger."

The Badica twin practically sneered at her. "You're not royal, how do you account for that in your little theory?"

Catherine didn't back down, unapologetic and matter-of-fact. "My parents are teachers over on the elementary campus." Dimitri made a mental note to check on his sisters. "My parents can reassure the other parents with more conviction and evidence since I was put on the line."

Zeklos was looking at him intently, and Dimitri tried to focus on the inconsistencies in the explanations instead of Zeklos's hands on Katya. Taking advantage of the extra guardian protection made sense – except for just how recently the Strigoi had been seen. As a lowly novice, Dimitri couldn't know the specific standard operating procedures for campus security, but personally, he would have expected students to be on lockdown so soon after an attempted campus breach. Reassuring parents made more sense - even the choice of royal students and Catherine fit that guess - but Dimitri's instincts protested: it was simply too soon to risk _any_ Moroi. Therefore, both explanations had to be wrong – or at least incomplete. Zeklos was right to question the uncharacteristic guardian response.

"Belikov, what do you think?" Ivan asked. The muscles in Dimitri's back, neck, and arms knotted painfully. He wanted to disagree with Zeklos, and he couldn't. Katya looked very small with Zeklos's arm around her shoulders.

"I think you should stop questioning your guardians and let us do our job," Dimitri snapped. He broke off from the group and walked away.

* * *

_Thanks for being patient in these beginning chapters, and thank you for reading! _

_I'm trying very hard to stay in canon, but all the descriptions and speculation on the wards and elemental magic is all guesswork on my part. I'm sorry if I've got it wrong!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Vampire Academy is all Richelle Mead's!_

* * *

Katya caught up to him.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Dimitri walked faster, making her work to keep up with his long strides. He had her nearly running, and finally, aggravated, she jabbed him in the kidney. He spun around, and his fist only missed because his swing was wild - and because she instinctively blocked.

"HEY!" She dropped back, stunned.

He shook his head angrily, trying to clear his vision. He struggled for control. Fighting outside class could get them both suspended, but he ached to hit something, anything. Katya narrowed her eyes, calming down enough to read him.

"Hey," she repeated, lowering her hands, slowly. "This is more than jealousy or big brother crap. You're a mess. What's wrong?"

His heart was pounding and he was having trouble breathing. He shook his head. "Forget it."

He tried to turn away but she grabbed his arm. "You're acting crazy." She searched his face. "You don't like Ivan, fine. I get it. _I_ like him. He's funny and he's nice. He's not one of those royal Moroi jerks who just want some dhampir ass."

Dimitri didn't believe that for a second. He wished he could tell her, explain just how bad a Zeklos could be, but he didn't. She wouldn't believe him. He got his breathing under control and gave her as much of the truth as he could. "He just bothers me, that's all. He's too smooth. I don't trust him. You shouldn't either. And if he keeps asking about guardian work I'm going to hit him."

"He's just interested. And if you hit Moroi, you'll get expelled. I'd rethink that plan if I were you."

"I don't care if he's interested. Moroi need to do what they do and let us do our jobs."

She hooked her elbow with his. "All right," she said. "I'm not going to argue. You don't have to like him, but he asked me to introduce him to the other novices and he figured out we used to date. He asked about you. He's really worried about making friends and you're making things worse. At least _pretend_ he doesn't bother you, and any time you want to tell me what's really going on, I'm ready to listen."

"Don't trust him," he repeated.

"I mean it," she said. "_I like him_. If you mess this up for me I will drug you and break all your fingers in your sleep."

Her tone was half joking, half warning. Maybe she wouldn't have done real damage, but she was serious about asking him - telling him - to back off. He hated feeling this helpless, but there wasn't anything else he could do.

"I won't start anything if he doesn't," he promised reluctantly.

She kept looking at him. "Go apologize to Malina," she said finally. "I think you hurt her feelings."

He'd forgotten about Malina, and he knew Katya was right. He couldn't do anything else about Zeklos – not yet anyway – and Malina had been a welcome distraction. He tried to catch her, but she was inexplicably busy the rest of the morning. Classes, meals, between class, she was always talking to someone else.

He finally caught up with her at lunch, as she was heading to her seat. "I'm sorry about this morning."

She acted surprised and somewhat indifferent. "Don't worry about it, you were just tense after guarding us. Ivan and Catherine were out of line." He couldn't figure out her tone and he hadn't minded Catherine at all, but Malina walked away, effectively ending the conversation. He nearly followed her, but stopped when she joined Katya and Ivan and the rest of the group from the ward exercise. He watched her for a moment, confused and irritated. He ate alone and went early to the gym.

Classes ran long, well into the evening. The novices worked additional time in the monitoring station - still finding evidence of half-dozen or so Strigoi, though none any closer to the academy - and made up the extra hours of Advanced Bodyguard practice. Dimitri stopped by the elementary dorms before dinner to check on his sisters. News of the ward exercise – though not of Dimitri's storming away from Zeklos – had reached the elementary campus, and they chattered excitedly about it and begged for more details. They'd also heard about the Strigoi sighting but hadn't been given any official information. He told them about his morning and reassured them about the Strigoi threat as best as he could. He stayed extra long to play chess with Sonya and help Viktoria with her homework, and promised to stop by to see them more often. He caught dinner just before the kitchens closed and went back to his room to study.

Malina was in the hall outside his door.

She sat, long legs criss-crossed, reading a book. She didn't look up, and Dimitri almost turned around. She looked tired and unhappy – but still beautiful, he couldn't help but notice - and he didn't know what to say to her.

Her voice – and the thump of her head against the wall – caught him. Her tone was unmistakable – some colorful swearing, he was sure – but he didn't recognize the language. He hesitated and she added in Russian, "Please don't go. If you do I have to chase you, and I don't think my dignity can take much more."

She closed the book and Dimitri saw the title – the same American Western he'd been reading yesterday at lunch. He wondered where she'd found another English copy. She looked up. Her hair was pulled up in a careless knot, and Dimitri had to stop himself from brushing a few soft, messy tendrils away from her cheeks. Her eyes were friendly, even though her mouth twisted slightly in a tired smirk. "Sit with me?" she asked.

"You could come in?" he offered uncertainly. His room wasn't exactly set up for talking, and the thought of her sitting on his bed again was suddenly more attractive than it should be under the circumstances.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

He dropped his bag and sat next to her. He thought about taking her hand like he had earlier, but she clasped hers in her lap. "What language did you just swear in?" he asked.

She looked surprised, and maybe pleased. "Georgian. Where my grandmother is from."

He nodded. "My grandmother has some creative phrases as well." He told her one of his favorites and she laughed out loud. "Yours can't be as bad as that," he smiled. "What's the translation?"

She told him and it was his turn to laugh. "Say it again in Georgian."

She repeated it, and Dimitri tried out the rolling consonants. She corrected his pronunciation a few times, but he managed to learn the phrase without too much difficulty. He tried it out one last time, with extra emphasis, and Malina laughed out loud again.

"So what did I do to deserve that?" he asked.

She looked away and played with the pages of her book. "Am I making a fool out of myself?" she asked.

She'd lost him. "What do you mean?"

"I've been trying to figure out how to make you like me," she shrugged – and blushed. "I even tried avoiding you today."

He couldn't figure her out. "You were avoiding me?"

She thumped her head against the wall again. "Yes, you dolt. Did you even notice?"

"I noticed you were busy," he said honestly.

The corners or her mouth twitched. Her head was still resting against the wall and her eyes rolled ceiling-ward. "I guess that's something."

He stayed silent.

"I'm not usually this pathetic." She turned her head to look at him. "It's obvious you're never going to get over Katya. Just – do I have any chance? Or should I stop humiliating myself?"

He didn't know what to say. He was definitely attracted to her, but she'd blindsided him. If she'd been any other Moroi girl he wouldn't have hesitated, but she seemed to want something more.

"I can list the Moroi girls you've been with," she said quietly, filling the silence. "And you've never stayed with any of them. Is it just that you can't imagine a Moroi wanting you for anything more than your body? Or –" realization dawned, "do you not want anything more from a Moroi?"

The therapist his mother had sent him to when he was thirteen had been good at reading him. Malina was better.

"My mother was involved with a Moroi for almost twenty years," he said, trying to explain and realizing too late that he was sharing so much. "She met him when she was a guardian and she says – claims - he was good to her. I guess he was exciting, adored her, always full of flattery and gifts. He got her pregnant four times."

He shouldn't have said the rest, but he couldn't stop. "I don't know when he started beating her, but he didn't stop until I was thirteen."

He _did_ manage to stay silent about why the beatings had ceased. Malina wrapped her hands around his clenched fists. She didn't make excuses or try to make him not be angry.

"My grandmother nearly married a dhampir," she said. At first he thought she was changing the subject, then he realized she was trying to share a much different story. "They weren't together openly, but he was her brother's guardian and they all went to the same university. She loved him, but when he asked her to marry him she was afraid of what the family would do. She said no and he left - got another assignment and never spoke to her again. She says it was the biggest mistake of her life. Everyone says I'm like her." She looked away. "Maybe too much like her."

She was definitely not like the other Moroi he'd been with. "I don't think I'll marry you," he offered.

She smiled, like he'd hoped. "I'm not asking you to – yet." Her voice was teasing. She squeezed his hands and her expression turned shy. "But if you'll let me, I'd like to prove you can trust at least _one_ Moroi."

Two novices who lived on Dimitri's floor walked by, briefly saving Dimitri from answering, but the silence continued too long after they'd passed.

She dropped his hands and scrambled to her feet, embarrassed. "Never mind."

He caught her hand. "Don't go."

She pinched her lips together and wouldn't meet his eyes. Her words came out in a rush, like they'd slipped out, only accidentally said out loud. "If you want me to stay you're going to have to kiss me." She still wouldn't look at him, but her grip on his hand was tight.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about her, but he didn't want her to leave. He stood up and pulled her closer, and she came into his arms willingly. He wondered briefly if he could truly trust her. Moroi girls had always thrown themselves at him_ –_ much like Malina had just yesterday. Why wouldn't she just kiss him, if that was what she wanted? But she was in his arms and he wanted to take the chance.

He kissed her awkwardly and she responded immediately, eagerly. She stepped closer and he deepened the kiss. He threaded his fingers into her hair, enjoying how her silky curls slipped through his fingers and how her slight curves pressed against his ribs. He pulled her toward his door.

"Slow down, cowboy," she murmured against his lips, but he could feel her smiling.

He pulled back, confused, frustrated.

She pulled him close again and slipped her hands under the bottom of his shirt. Her hands were warm against the bare skin of his back, and he relaxed into her touch. "I don't want to be just another Moroi girl in your bed," she whispered in his ear. "I really like you. Just give me a chance."

"What do you want?" he asked. He was completely unprepared for what Malina seemed to be offering. She'd caught his attention by being as forward as the other Moroi girls he'd been with, but he was starting to believe that she really was different.

"Ask me to play pool again, help you with your homework, anything," she smiled, her mouth still by his ear. "I asked you out, it's your turn."

"Help me with my calculus homework?" he tried.

"Absolutely," she answered. She let him pick up his bag, then wrapped her arm around his waist and led him back downstairs to the common study area.

* * *

_Anyone have any ideas for what Malina's grandmother's curse / expletive would be? Or Dimitri's grandmother's, too? I liked the little exchange between Malina and Dimitri, and I'd like to think that when Rose hears Dimitri mutter something that sounds like Russian swearing, that he's actually repeating Malina's grandmother's curse. I googled like crazy, though, and couldn't find anything specifically Georgian (though I did learn that The Republic of Georgia is close to Turkey and Armenia and Azerbaijan). Worse, Russian cursing – _mat_ – if I'm understanding right, is too vulgar for Dimitri's grandmother to even admit to hearing it, much less using it herself; and Dimitri would never repeat something _mat_ to a Moroi, especially a Moroi girl he might like. So, let me know if you have any good ideas, or just pretend that I came up with something perfect...  
_

_I liked Malina calling him "cowboy" since she was reading his American Western novel, and because it kind of echoes how Rose called him "comrade" at first…_

_I had trouble figuring out how long Olena would have been involved with Dimitri's father… BP p.101 – Dimitri's older sister Karolina had a ten-year-old son, so assuming she had him right after she finished her training, that would make her 28-ish – so four years older than Dimitri. Dimitri beat up his Moroi father when he was 13, so Karolina would have been 17. I just rounded up to twenty years…_

_Sorry for the delay in posting! I finally got another HON chapter out the door, and the sequence of events for the next couple chapters of this story just weren't lining up right. This one still feels a little uneven to me, but I'm posting anyway. I hope it's okay! _

_Thanks again so much for reading!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Hello! I'm so sorry I've been gone so long, both on this story and HON! I'm finally writing again, and I will finish both stories no matter what - I just can't make any promises on how fast I'll be able to do it, sorry!_

_HON folks, I love you and I love Zoey and her guys, so don't hate me as you see more VA chapters come out! I'm hard at work on Zoey again – recent reviews and favorite-ing and the awesome new Awakened book are getting me back in Zoey's head! Now to see if I can balance these two fics again, because I do love them both!_

_I'm loving Dimitri and Ivan and the challenge of splitting Rose's personality and other traits between Malina and Katya - I hope you're enjoying them too :-D._

_Oh- the big reveal of Ivan and Dimitri's connection won't be for a while, I'm not intentionally being annoying by holding back, it's just that in character, Dimitri is avoiding and struggling against the connection so much that he's not admitting it to himself. In the meantime, I'm trying to weave in as many hints to what that relationship actually is, lots of future-echoes of Rose and Dimitri, and also an actual plot(!)._

_**Vampire Academy** is all Richelle Mead's - and I got to meet her on her **Last Sacrifice** tour!_

* * *

The study commons was on the main floor, a large room set off from the main entryway. A guardian was normally stationed at the desk just outside the doors. Tonight Guardian Rybalkin sat at the desk, looking more alert than usual. From his vantage point he could see the entry doors, the hallway and doors to the stairwell, and the comings and goings from the commons. In the dorms of the younger students the study commons was the only place where mixed genders were allowed. In the senior dorms the rule was technically the same, but enforcement was extremely variable based on the guardian in charge. They were lucky tonight: Malina had already gotten past Rybalkin to wait for Dimitri, and as they exited the doors from the stairwell he merely glanced at them and sighed.

Rybalkin was one of the older guardians on campus, and while he was one of the deadliest fighters and most serious teachers Dimitri had, he was also one of the most lenient when it came to student 'extra curricular' activities. Dimitri would not have risked any movement or action that could have pegged him as a threat in Rybalkin's eyes, but he was certain that Rybalkin considered chaperone issues beneath his serious notice. Malina smiled at him as she led Dimitri past the desk to the commons doors, and he gave her a slight smile and a bemused head shake in return.

Once inside the room, Dimitri nearly turned around, but Malina pulled him across the room to an empty spot. The commons was crowded with dhampirs and more Moroi girls than Dimitri had ever seen in the novice dorm. Even on an ordinary day he and Malina wouldn't have been the only dhampir-Moroi pair, but they would have been in the minority. A quick assessment told him that tonight nearly a quarter of his male classmates shared cubicles with Moroi girls.

Malina sat next to him in the cubicle and followed his gaze. She shrugged and set her books on the table. "The other Moroi girls are nervous," she offered. "The Strigoi sighting has everyone on edge, and suddenly the dhampir guys are looking hotter than usual. If there's anyone else you've had your eye on, now is probably the time to do something about it."

He watched her carefully. She looked both nervous and challenging, like he might indeed decide to make a beeline for the Moroi dorms. "I'm not interested in anyone," he said. She looked away and shuffled out his calculus assignment.

"What did you need help with?" she asked, changing the subject.

"How did you know I needed help?"

"I saw you after class. Just about everyone had that same glazed look. Show me where you got stuck."

He pointed to a random equation and she fixed his mistake. "Calculus was my favorite class last year," she shrugged when he stared at her.

"Really?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

A hint of that sweet, shy smile played around her face. "You can do so much more with calculus than regular math – like design bridges and roads. If I can get my parents to let me, I'd like to go to Moscow, or St. Petersburg, or even America for university, to study to be an engineer. I know it's much safer to go to a smaller school, but if I took only daylight classes and kept a low profile, and stayed inside at night, with a good guardian maybe it would be possible to go to one of the larger, better universities." Her words came out quickly at the end, half excited, half worried that he wouldn't approve.

He wasn't sure how to answer. He liked her interest, her animation, but from what little he knew of Moroi families, he assumed it was unlikely Malina would get her dream. "I hope you do," he said anyway.

"What about you?" she asked hesitantly, as if only just realizing something.

He didn't understand the question.

"The family business and family politics is my idea of hell, but I know it might be my future anyway. You're going to be a guardian; you don't have any choice at all."

Dimitri had never considered _not _being a guardian. "I'm good at it."

"Do you _like_ it?"

It took him a minute to wrap his mind around the question. It didn't matter if he liked it. _They come first._ His life had always been about protecting – his mother, his sisters, the Moroi. He couldn't imagine standing back and letting others take the risks that he could. "I guess I do."

She looked like she wanted to say something else, then stopped herself, turning her attention back to his assignment. She reworked his equations but explained his mistakes as well, tutoring him through the basic lesson better than his instructor. She sat close, her knee pressing into his leg, her fingers brushing his hand, their temples nearly touching as they looked over his work together. He enjoyed her physical proximity but her apparent comfort in touching him confused him even more after her refusal to join him in his room.

When they finished she half-smiled at him, almost in challenge. "Anything else?"

He took the prompt and asked her to play pool again. They had minor trouble finding an open table. The pool tables were in the expansive recreational space in the basement of the dorm, and tonight it was as crowded as the study commons.

Pool was one of the few physical activities where Moroi and dhampirs could compete, and Dimitri enjoyed playing against Malina. She had an uncanny instinct for angles and applied force that rivaled his well-honed hand-eye coordination, and though he'd won their matches the previous night, she rallied in their current matches and won every game they played.

He was impressed with her skill and execution, and her brilliant, triumphant smile at her final victory caught him completely off guard. Her emerald green eyes practically sparkled, and even though her hair had fallen and frizzed from her loose bun, he thought she looked stunningly beautiful. For just a moment he stopped second-guessing her motives and interest. If she'd been another dhampir he wouldn't have hesitated.

"Can I walk you back to your dorm?" he asked.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

She accepted with another full smile. Near her dorm he stepped off the path and brought her under the canopy of a large old oak tree. Anyone looking their way could have seen them, illuminated by the gaslamps lighting the path and the starlight, but he counted on the many low-hanging branches to generally obscure them from sight.

This time he initiated the kiss without any prompting. As before, she responded so willingly that he couldn't help but wonder if she'd be as sweetly uninhibited… in other activities. She'd refused him, though, and he realized he should apologize for his presumption. No matter how easily the other Moroi girls had slept with him, he shouldn't have assumed that Malina would be the same.

His apology died in his throat as Malina's hands worked quickly between them in the cold air, opening the buttons on his coat and her own. She backed him against the old tree and pressed her body closer, touching from thigh to chest. He had no objections to her aggression but dropped his hands, not trusting his read on her signals. He gripped the tree at his back with more force than he intended. The rough bark dug painfully into his skin even through the thin leather of his gloves.

He kept kissing her, warmth radiating between them, their hot breath crystallizing around them into white fog. "Hey, Cowboy," she whispered. Her voice, sweet and sultry, went straight down his body. "I'm not sleeping with you, but I'm not afraid of you." Her long fingers were cool as she tugged off his gloves and brought his hands under her coat – and more. He let her lead and she took full advantage, guiding his hands where she wanted them and stopping them where she didn't. He was glad – and intrigued – as she set her boundaries. He couldn't fathom her reasons for wanting to take things slow – parts of him actively protested – but he would never force or push any girl for more than she was willing to offer. Until now, he simply had no experience with a Moroi girl who wasn't immediately interested in sex. Malina might not be interested in sex, but she very clearly wanted him to touch her.

He lost himself in her, the pressure of her slim body against his, the sweet taste of her mouth, the silky heat of her skin. Just before curfew, she disentangled herself and breathed in his ear. "Thanks, Cowboy." She pulled his coat closed and ran up the stairs to the entrance to her dorm. Just before she opened the door she paused. Her smile was half playful, half dangerous. "I'm not afraid of you, but you should probably be a little afraid of me."

She disappeared into the building.

His head spun. His liaisons with other Moroi girls had been much more straightforward… but he had to admit: much less interesting. He made his way back to his own dorm, feeling strangely calm. His mood darkened in an instant when he caught sight of a small body and blond curls disappear through the lighted doors of the novice dorm. He didn't have to look far to have his suspicions confirmed. A tall, dark figure stood on the path, and when the door closed, he turned away.

* * *

_Have I done enough buildup that you can stand to read about Dimitri making out with someone other than Rose? :-D_

_I know Rose was in "stupid math", but Malina is only partially like Rose, and I liked making something about her completely anti-Rose. I also wanted to give Malina something she was really good at. Since Rose is such an exceptional fighter, Malina needed to be exceptional at something too._

_Thank you so much for reading! (PS I love reviews!)_


	13. Chapter 13

_Vampire Academy is all Richelle Mead's..._

* * *

Dimitri let Zeklos go, only his promise to Katya keeping him from following the Moroi and demanding that he leave the school and never come back to Siberia again. He entered the doors to the novice dorm a minute after Katya, but she was still there – standing at attention. Novices were usually allowed flexibility around curfew, but it took Dimitri no time at all to realize that leniency was not in play tonight. He joined Katya at attention, not waiting to be ordered.

Guardian Rybalkin stood in front of Katya. He didn't speak, and Katya stayed silent as well. An expression Dimitri wasn't expecting - and one he was sure he misread: relief – crossed his face. "Novice Belikov. Are you aware that you are returning past curfew?"

"Yes, Guardian Rybalkin?" He wouldn't make excuses. Eyes forward, back straight, he waited with Katya for their punishment.

Rybalkin's shoulders dropped slightly and he exhaled – not in a sigh, but in a release of tension. "I realize the novice curfew has not been enforced recently. You will appreciate that circumstances have changed."

He sounded both tired and overwhelmed – unusual in itself for stoic Rybalkin - but his tone was firm and did not invite questions.

Still at attention: back straight, hands at his sides, eyes forward, Dimitri could only nod. "Yes, Sir."

"This is your only warning. If you are late again you will be on monitoring duty for a week. Dismissed." He turned away, not waiting to see if they complied. Dimitri stayed frozen until Katya tugged him toward the stairs. He recovered and pushed past her. He wasn't angry, but she if she was going to be with Zeklos he couldn't be around her. She followed him, not understanding and intentionally not acknowledging his mood.

"They're taking the 'real world test' a bit far," she called up, half a stairwell behind, sounding both annoyed and amused.

He climbed faster, not running but taking the steps three at a time – easy to do with his long legs. He had to get away from her, away from the memories she was triggering, but his novice training was too strong. Despite the awful images in his head, he was still processing the new curfew and the guardian's response.

"They're not telling us something." He muttered, still climbing.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but Katya heard him. A full stairway behind now, she called up to him, her voice intentionally conversational. "What do you mean?"

He kept going up the cramped, Stalin-era cement stairway. He wished he could talk to her, get her input and help with understanding the bizarre guardian response, take advantage of how hard she was trying to be his friend, but he just couldn't. Not now. "Nothing."

"Dimitri."

Her tone made him stop, one hand on the worn metal handrail, one foot on a higher stair. He'd just been with Malina, just realized that the Moroi girl could be more than a casual bed partner. But despite his friendship with Katya, there were still moments –like now – when he wished they could be more.

"Dimka," she repeated, more softly. She was still half a flight of stairs away, the fluorescent lighting flickered sickly. He focused on the sick flickering so he wouldn't get caught in the memory of other times she'd whispered his name. He continued up the stairs but more slowly, one stair at a time, letting her catch up.

They reached the third floor landing and he stopped, hand on the doorknob. "They're being inconsistent," he volunteered finally. "Sending us and Moroi - especially Moroi - out to the wards; then cracking down on curfew."

She shook her head, carefully. "They're training us."

"Modeling unsafe practices and imposing illogical restrictions is poor guidance – unless there's something that explains the contradictions."

"You and Ivan," she smiled, still cautious. "You're both acting like there's a guardian conspiracy.

Zeklos again. He couldn't escape. "What did Zeklos say?"

"He just said that the guardians are acting different than they did at his old academy."

He regretted asking. It didn't matter what Zeklos said, and besides, it was impossible to know if he was telling the truth. He turned the doorknob. Katya touched his hand.

She took a step back, something she did when she wanted his full attention. He was so much taller than she that over the years she'd adapted: stepping back allowed her to look him in the eye without straining her neck.

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

Her expression said she saw the lie clearly - and the pain behind it - but she didn't push. She tried for an intentionally lighter tone. "Why were _you_ late? Did you fix things with Malina?"

He pushed his feelings for Katya aside. He was used to pushing those feelings away, and he was good at it. Malina baffled him but he'd enjoyed being with her and he was looking forward to spending more time with her. He smiled, thinking about the pool game and her aggressiveness outside by the tree.

Katya cheered at his expression then covered her mouth guiltily, but her eyes stayed bright. "Oh, thank god," she whispered, grinning. "Maybe you'll relax once you start getting some on a regular basis."

His smile vanished. "She's not like that."

"Really?" She sounded shocked. She'd teased him about other girls, but Malina was the first he'd defended. Her voice softened. "Do you actually _like_ her?"

He suddenly felt uncomfortable talking about Malina with Katya. He tried to turn the doorknob again. "Maybe."

Katya stopped him again, squeezing his fingers gently. Her voice took on a tone he'd never heard her use. "It's okay, Dimitri. It's good. Not all Moroi are like your father. Most of them are worth protecting. This isn't just racial survival for us. They're hunted like animals. Protecting them is the right thing to do."

It was just a variation of what they'd always been taught: _they come first_. He should have just agreed and gone to bed. He was sure she wasn't really talking about _all_ Moroi, though. He didn't try to keep the contempt out of his voice. "Like Zeklos?"

Her lips tightened but her voice stayed mild. "Whenever you want to tell me what's wrong I'll listen."

"It's nothing," he said. "Good night."

He didn't look back but he felt her eyes follow him all the way down the hall to his room. Only after he pushed his door closed did he hear her continue up the stairs to the female novices' floor.

* * *

For the next week and a half Dimitri tried to stay focused on his classes and Malina, and did his best to ignore Ivan and Katya.

The initial uproar after the Strigoi sighting settled surprisingly quickly. The guardians were kept busy with other campus emergencies - a small fire along the wards on the eastern side of campus and a water main burst near the wards to the south – but there were no more Strigoi sightings despite increased patrols and monitoring.

Changes were made, but student life followed the new patterns with relative ease. The Moroi students relaxed – only a handful went home – and most – though not all - of the Moroi girls disappeared from the novice dorm. Novices were held to stricter standards – stricter curfew just one of the small changes - but under the circumstances, no one complained.

The majority of the changes were made in the novice schedule. Monitoring continued to be a new mandatory hour each day, and novice pairs were assigned rotating three-hour blocks after hours, joining the guardians in 24-7 surveillance of the campus and surrounding areas. Criminal psychology was added to the standard curriculum. Advanced bodyguard technique moved to the end of the day and consistently ran long, and standard novice coursework instruction and practices intensified and extended.

The Moroi were not completely exempt from the changes - more Moroi-novice groups were taken to the wards (the official explanation continued to be "taking advantage of increased surveillance for magical technique instruction and bodyguard practice") and the Moroi professors were more visible in their work with their guardian counterparts. For the most part, the professors and guardians worked together in apparent solidarity, but occasionally, Dimitri could have sworn that the pairings were quietly antagonistic.

Dimitri's – and Zeklos's – questions about the uneven, inconsistent guardian response remained unanswered. Dimitri had chances to ask Nikitin for explanations – Nikitin often singled him out for advanced instruction and practice - but because _Zeklos_ had originally raised the question… Dimitri couldn't bring himself to ask.

Dimitri's time and energy should have been fully directed at the new classes and extended practices. Instead, he stayed at the top of his class by sheer natural skill and luck. Malina took up some of his time and energy, but Ivan Zeklos continued to make his life a quiet hell.

Zeklos continued to ingratiate himself with his classmates and teachers. He was a model student, yet somehow managed to avoid becoming a teacher's pet. Away from class, he apportioned his time equally among the novices, Moroi, and Royal Moroi - at meals, during classes, while studying, and even in the recreation areas. With the royals he was immediately, inexplicably popular, polished, smart, savvy, and political; with the novices and other Moroi he was charming, friendly, genuine, and relaxed.

Dimitri knew it was all an act – carefully crafted, well performed, but still an act – but his skin crawled with envy as he watched Zeklos easily navigate every social level the academy had. Dimitri's own natural physical skills, serious temperament, and strong work ethic earned him respect, but he rarely felt anything but uncomfortable in social situations. He'd never minded before - he excelled in other areas – but watching _Zeklos_ excel made him acutely aware of his inadequacies, and added another layer of agony whenever Zeklos was around.

Zeklos's skill in consolidating his popularity wasn't Dimitri's worst level of hell: Zeklos continued to spend time with Katya. Watching them, Dimitri could almost believe that Zeklos was as good as he seemed. Watching them, Dimitri almost forgot to be worried for Katya's safety. Watching them, he could finally see why he and Katya had never worked - why _none _of his relationships had ever worked. He couldn't stand it, because even though he knew – he _knew _their relationship would explode in spectacularly ugly ways – but if what he saw could possibly be genuine, Katya and Zeklos showed him what he was missing.

They were happy. They spent the majority of their time with their own friends – Katya with her novice classmates and Moroi friends, Ivan with nearly everyone – but they watched each other, and smiled. No matter what they were doing they seemed constantly aware of each other, not so much seeking each other out to touch but holding themselves back from touching too much. Her arm would just barely brush him, his elbow would nudge her, their hands would meet briefly – then they would keep moving; continue on to their next class, next conversation, next practice. The didn't avoid each other – they ate some meals together, studied together, and, Dimitri heard, went on an official date the first Friday after Ivan started at the Siberian academy – but it was almost as if they were being careful to take things slow.

Unable to sway Katya in any way and restricted from a direct confrontation with Zeklos, Dimitri tried to concentrate on Malina. He noticed more and more just how beautiful she was – her green eyes flashing in interest or laughter, her slight Moroi curves accented by the clingy, form-skimming skirts and sweaters and tights she favored. More and more he found himself trying to make her smile. She came from a different world, though, and he struggled for common ground – or even basic conversation. She worked at keeping conversation going between them, but so much of his past needed to be edited or avoided, and so much of his nature was to be naturally reticent and quiet. His skills were physical: he had very little experience talking – about anything, really, but especially about himself. Malina tried hard to get to know him, though, and to fill the uncomfortable silence sometimes, she talked about herself. He got to know her a little in those rambling, nervous times.

She was the youngest of four: she had two older brothers and an older sister. Her parents traveled a lot but they did their best to bring Malina and her siblings with them on summer break. On short breaks during the year she usually stayed with her grandmother.

Her family had two guardians. Dimitri got the impression that in her family, the guardians were employees, with a status somewhat on par with her parents' accountant. Malina liked them, but they were older and rarely spoke to her. She'd gotten in trouble with them when she was younger because she'd snuck out a lot - to meet friends, boys, or just for a little adventure. She still tended to break the rules – he hadn't seen current evidence of any impulsiveness or thrill seeking but he believed her - but she'd slowly learned the seriousness of the Strigoi threat. Older and wiser and more cautious, she regretted causing her guardians extra, unnecessary work.

They fell into a pattern, meeting for most meals, homework, and finding creative ways and locations to be alone. They were awkward at talking, but there was no awkwardness between them physically. He didn't ask – and she didn't offer – for her to come to his room again, but she had no problem sneaking time together in utility closets, empty classrooms, and in the shadows of trees and between buildings. Her boundaries stayed firm but he thoroughly enjoyed her responsiveness and minimal inhibitions within the comfort zone she set.

She didn't cling or hover - he often had to look for her at meals or between classes - and she spent the majority of her time with her Moroi friends, but most nights she did go out of her way to watch his Advanced Bodyguard practice. The extra novice coursework and the extended class practices made the class run so late that the kitchen started extending their hours. Malina and a few other Moroi – more than Dimitri expected – observed the class, waiting to eat with their novice friends.

Friday night, almost two weeks after Ivan Zeklos had moved to Saint Basil's Siberian Academy and invaded his life, Malina observed his class and Zeklos joined her. They weren't alone: it was the last class of the week and quite a few Moroi – almost two dozen – were waiting to join their friends for various Friday night activities. At first Dimitri assumed that Zeklos was there for Katya and he was almost resigned into accepting it, but as practice continued, he realized that Zeklos was there for Malina.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, favorite-ing, and especially for reviewing! I adore my reviewers, thank you all! :-D_

_Sorry for the cliffhanger, I've been trying to keep the chapters on this story short and sweet but they're getting longer and longer, and what happens next is going to take a while so I *had * to end it here. That, and Richelle likes to end on cliffhangers and I'm learning from the best!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note - Sorry I've been gone so long! Still playing with Richelle Mead's amazing world and characters - everything Vampire Academy belongs to her!_

* * *

_Friday night, almost two weeks after Ivan Zeklos had moved to Saint Basil's Siberian Academy and invaded his life, Malina observed his class and Zeklos joined her. They weren't alone: it was the last class of the week and quite a few Moroi – almost two dozen – were waiting to join their friends for various Friday night activities. At first Dimitri assumed that Zeklos was there for Katya and he was almost resigned into accepting it, but as practice continued, he realized that Zeklos was there for Malina._

Dimitri had had only one other interaction with Zeklos in the weeks since Zeklos's arrival. On the Monday following the ward exercise, Zeklos had caught up with him as they were changing classes. Other students passed them on the crowded walkway, grabbing for hats and buttoning heavy coats that had been allowed to flap open due to the early morning warmer temperatures. The daylight hours had been overcast and the low-lying clouds had insulated the landscape, holding back the expected cold, but at the time of the class change, a few hours after sundown, the sky was clearing and the temperature was dropping fast. Dimitri tried to enjoy the emerging starlight but wished he'd gotten up earlier. He'd spent a lot of time in the sunlight when he'd been home over Christmas, and he missed it. Zeklos's interruption ruined another pleasant memory.

"Belikov."

Dimitri kept walking, but couldn't _not_ answer. "Zeklos."

Ivan kept pace easily and held up his hands in good-natured self-defense. He ducked his head slightly, trying to catch Dimitri's eye. "No guardian questions. I promise."

Dimitri silently cursed the etiquette that had been drilled into him from an early age that compelled him now to apologize.

"I'm sorry about that. I overreacted."

"_I'm_ sorry," Ivan answered. His voice was level and serious. He caught Dimitri's glance and held it, his own dark brown eyes mirroring Dimitri's exactly. Dimitri kept walking, but couldn't make himself look away. "I overstepped. I promise, from now on I'll leave guardian work to my guardians, and my soon-to-be guardian friends. You and every other guardian here are trained to give your life for mine – for any Moroi. I have no right to question anything."

Again, Zeklos said all the right things, in the exact right way; with the perfect amount of respect for dhampir service and sacrifice while retaining the easy self-assurance of royalty. Dimitri didn't – _couldn't_ – respond, and he was finally able to look away.

"Are we good?" Zeklos pressed. "I've made it a general life rule to stay on the positive side of people who could break me in half."

Zeklos's joke again reminded Dimitri bizarrely of Katya, the way she joked as a matter of course, but also sometimes to cover her true feelings. He shook off the similarity with effort. Zeklos's easy company was working even on him, and he hated himself for the weakness. He still couldn't be sure about anything about Zeklos – what he knew, what he intended. Even his casual, harmless snark could be a dark insinuation, covering up the cruelty of his knowledge with his usual self-serving charm.

Dimitri would have taken any chance, any out to extricate himself from Zeklos's too-calm, too-polite, too-confusing company. "We're good."

Since that conversation Zeklos had backed off, building and solidifying his popularity and power base among the other students, not pressing Dimitri for more. Despite Zeklos and Katya's obvious relationship, he'd even absent himself from observing the open dhampir classes, staying away so completely and uncharacteristically that in weak moments Dimitri wondered if Zeklos was staying away from him on purpose in some bizarre kindness. But Friday night, Zeklos came to class to watch.

He had arrived after class had started, sliding into the gymnasium through a side door just behind and to the right of the silvery bleachers where the Moroi observers sat and watched the novice class. He could have used the main door, but he had chosen the less obtrusive entryway. He even closed the door behind him exceedingly softly, as if being truly careful to minimize any distraction his late entrance might cause to his practicing classmates. He stood quietly, his gaze sweeping the entire floor, watching the mock-battles unfolding before him. His eyes skimmed over Dimitri a few times, but he was clearly seeking Katya.

Dimitri's line of sight had been almost entirely blocked by the metal bleachers and the other Moroi, but as usual, his every sense clanged with awareness of Zeklos.

Advanced Bodyguard Technique was held in the largest gymnasium on St. Basil's campus. The class was required for all senior novices, and even though dhampir enrollment had decreased over the years, there were still more than enough students to fill the space. The building was large but strictly utilitarian: a well-lit, high-ceiled, unheated, steel-corrugated structure, the uninsulated shell serving only to block out the harshest of the Siberian elements. The crenellated interior was painted a basic white and the floor was hard concrete. The only concession to comfort was three massive, five meter-diameter ceiling fans which rotated slowly, circulating the small amount of heat generated by the novices' workout.

The novices practiced on blue and green practice mats spaced out wall to wall at regular intervals across the smooth gray floor. They wore the standard training workout gear: lightweight, layered clothing that allowed for a balance of warmth and maneuverability. The dark colors of the nylon jacket and trousers – shades of charcoal, navy, or a green so deep it was almost black – stood out in stark contrast in the lights and colors of the gymnasium, but would have faded easily into the background of the starlit outdoors where Guardians usually patrolled. Thin leather gloves protected their hands; their heads remained uncovered. Their hardier dhampir physiology meant that, even though their breath turned to vapor around them, they barely shivered.

Even in the unseasonably warm weather – almost above the freezing point, unheard of for this part of Siberia in February - the Moroi were bundled in long coats and classic Russian hats. They huddled together on the unfolded aluminum bleachers that usually saw no use until the novices' yearly final trials. Their heavy layers and close contact with one another kept them warm, but they watched with some envy as their classmates moved easily under the same conditions.

Soaked through with sweat, Dimitri stripped off the nylon outer layer and mid-layer fleece jacket, leaving only the thin, long-sleeved base layer that covered his torso and his fleece drawstring sweatpants. He ignored the catcalls from a few of the Moroi girls, but held his head up a little higher when he caught Malina's quick, appreciative smile.

Zeklos hadn't joined his huddled classmates at first but remained standing, hands deep in his fur-lined pockets. Dimitri expected him to slouch or lean, to relax to the point of laziness, but he stood straight, a meter or so from the bleachers, simply watching. Too aware of him, Dimitri had fought harder in his matches, trying to ignore the small smile on Zeklos's face as his eyes followed Katya.

Still fighting, he struggled to reconcile his own experience of Zeklos with the evidence that he was utterly besotted with Katya. Maybe this Zeklos truly was different. Even if he wasn't, even if he _was_ the monster Dimitri expected him to be, graduation was in a few short months. They would all be going their separate ways after that. Maybe until then, the restrictions of time – and Zeklos's clear affection – would be enough to keep Katya safe.


	15. Chapter 15

_Vampire Academy - all Richelle Mead's!_

* * *

Dimitri forced that thought to the back of his mind but allowed himself to consider the possible freedom in relaxing his constant vigilance. He got caught up in the exercise after that, winning his matches faster and with more complicated fighting techniques, letting himself show off a little for Malina. She sat alone on the top step of the bleachers, shivering but smiling slightly, appearing completely oblivious to her Moroi classmates and to any novice other than Dimitri. Tonight she wore the same long green coat she'd had on the first night she'd come to his room. The color stood out, not because it was the most obvious color – Moroi fashion currently favored brighter hues – but because the green matched her eyes perfectly and offset her dark hair.

Malina smiled fully when she caught him looking at her – just a quick look, during a partner transition - and since Guardian Ershova was on the other side of the gymnasium he allowed himself a half smile in return. It was a small risk – Ershova was notoriously observant (privately, the dhampir students joked that her senses rivaled a Strigoi's) – but he took the chance, for her. His concentration didn't suffer; he easily blocked the opening attack from his newest partner.

He was in the middle of three back-to-back matches when he saw Zeklos leave his informal post and join the other Moroi on the bleachers. Zeklos greeted everyone equally and amiably, touching shoulders, grasping hands, even kissing a few cheeks but never slowing as he climbed the stairs. Dimitri continued fighting but tracked Zeklos's progress. His destination was obvious, especially to Dimitri: Zeklos's target was Malina.

Dimitri took a hard hit to the jaw – out of bounds, but he didn't even think to request the penalty. He shook off the blow and watched helplessly as Zeklos tried to talk to Malina. She didn't respond at first, but Zeklos tried again, attempting to catch her eye. Dimitri's attention fractured, he lost his first match of the night. Zeklos continued, quietly persistent – not that Dimitri expected otherwise. Malina seemed almost deliberately disinterested, craning her neck to see around Zeklos and answering only in monosyllables, but Dimitri couldn't allow himself hope as he prepared for his next opponent. He took only small comfort that Malina didn't immediately succumb to Zeklos's charm.

Two more opponents rotated through to spar with him and Dimitri's technique turned almost entirely defensive. He simply couldn't plan or carry out an attack and he lost both matches. He wasn't surprised, not really. Even if Zeklos _was_ besotted with Katya he could still be practical, could still be laying groundwork for future partnerships with more suitable Royal Moroi girls. Dimitri could see that Malina and Zeklos would be an ideal match – he couldn't even be bitter about it. Zeklos's status was higher than Malina's, but her branch of the Ivashkov's was well respected and she was both smart and beautiful. Malina wouldn't resist him for long.

Supporting Dimitri's conclusion, Zeklos and Malina's next interaction only confirmed his fears and sparked something unpleasant, an old emotion – envy - he thought he'd long outgrown and buried. He watched Zeklos finally say something that caught Malina's attention – caught her completely off-guard and brought her shocked attention fully focused on him. The next thing he said made her laugh. Dimitri watched Malina as she looked then at Zeklos – really looked at him, not cautiously and distrustfully but with open speculation and consideration. She gave Zeklos a familiar, challenging smile, and whatever she answered made him laugh in return. Dimitri would have given a lot to know what they said, but knew it didn't really matter. He dove into his last match, but distracted and unbalanced, he lost anyway: four total losses after a near-perfect exercise.

Guardian Ershova called a break and allowed the novices a few minutes to hydrate and stretch before the next exercise. The extra classtime had allowed Ershova to set a grueling schedule. The first half of class had been an extended exercise where each novice rotated from mat to mat in a complicated, shifting pattern to fight every other novice, pairing them in rapid-fire battles meant to test their stamina, skill, concentration, and fighting multiple styles of attackers in short bursts of time. The second exercise was small-group mock battles, and while the novices took full advantage of the brief break, Nikitin and Matveev, Ershova's co-instructors, assigned them into balanced groups.

Circulating among the novices, Nikitin stopped at Dimitri's side. "Belikov, I want you on the track this weekend. Four losses, right at the end. Your stamina isn't what I thought it was."

Dimitri hated running, but at that moment he would have agreed to anything that got him away from Zeklos and Malina. "Yes, sir."

Nikitin assigned Dimitri to work with Sasha and a third novice, Viktor, and they started the exercise immediately, not wasting time waiting for the other groupings to be completed. The exercise was a familiar one and they worked well together, but a small movement off to his side drew Dimitri's attention back to the observing Moroi.

Zeklos sat next to Malina on the accordion aluminum bleachers, his long, lanky frame bent over, hands clasped together, elbows resting on his knees. His hunched over posture minimized body heat loss in the unheated gymnasium - and brought his head closer to Malina's. While Dimitri watched, unable to tear his eyes away, avoiding a strike from Sasha only out of pure instinct, Malina swept her long dark curls back over one shoulder and leaned closer still. She and Zeklos were talking so quietly and intimately that the other Moroi had slid away slightly to allow them some privacy in their low, murmured conversation. They huddled together and their foreheads and knees nearly touched.

Dimitri nearly penetrated flesh with his wooden practice stake.

Nikitin stepped in between Dimitri, Sasha, and Viktor, and calmly redirected Dimitri's stake down to his side. They – and the entire rest of the Advanced Bodyguard class – were split into triads, taking turns role-playing Moroi, Guardian, and Strigoi. Each triad occupied their own practice mat, and the triads around them continued: attacking, protecting, and observing in turn. Dimitri tore his eyes away from Zeklos and Malina to find Katya, wondering if she could see. He located her almost immediately: across the floor near the entry doors, half a gymnasium away. She was in the middle of defending her "Moroi". She was blissfully unaware of Zeklos's behavior, and as much as Dimitri usually enjoyed watching her fight, under the circumstances he had to look away.

Sasha smiled good-naturedly, oblivious to Dimitri's lapse. "Go a little easier next time," he complained, rubbing his chest. "I'm no Strigoi but I'm pretty sure one of those things could still kill me."

"Sorry," Dimitri managed.

Nikitin checked Sasha's sternum under the thick leather chest guard. "No damage," he reassured Sasha. He turned to Dimitri, his voice sharp. Injuring one another accidentally was common in the novice training, a side effect of a curriculum based on fighting and defense. What was not common was hurting one another out of anger. Nikitin had caught Dimitri's loss of control, even if Sasha hadn't. "You're off tonight, Belikov. Do you need a break?"

"No, Sir." Dimitri shook his head and answered respectfully, but couldn't make eye contact. He also couldn't scream or rage or physically leap into the bleachers to pull Zeklos away from Malina. There was nothing he _could_ do.

Nikitin watched him closely for a moment, then glanced away. "Take the Strigoi role this time," he directed.


	16. Chapter 16

_Richelle Mead's world and characters - I'm just playing in her sandbox!_

* * *

His body stiff and tight, Dimitri handed the wooden practice stake to Viktor and barely waited for him to take a defensive guardian stance before launching his Strigoi attack. He channeled as much of his envy and frustration and anger as he dared, not concerned for his novice partner, but concerned if he let go of his control too completely he wouldn't get it back.

He hit hard and he hit often, not caring if he left himself briefly vulnerable. In this exercise, his goal was not the death of his 'guardian' partner, it was to kill the 'Moroi' his partner was defending. He needed only to incapacitate the guardian, which took less effort than killing him. Killing him was acceptable, just not required, and that small difference allowed him to attack in a way that was less calculated, less careful, a little sloppy, and dangerously free. Dimitri usually disliked the Strigoi role for exactly that reason – that in his mind, to effectively play Striogi meant loosening the control he was always striving for – but at that moment letting go just a fraction of his inner turmoil was just barely enough.

Viktor, his "guardian" opponent, stood a respectable six feet tall, not a huge disadvantage against Dimitri's six foot six, and had twice the muscle Dimitri carried on his own lean frame. He wasn't at the top of the novice class like Dimitri, but he had good technique and the strength to back it up. He was no match for Dimitri's Strigoi. In an all-too-short amount of time, Dimitri tossed him aside "unconscious" and trapped Sasha-as-Moroi. He exposed Sasha's neck and completed the kill.

Breathing hard, not because of the physical effort involved but from the emotional effort of containing a lifetime of frustrations, Dimitri paused a moment longer than necessary while bending over Sasha's neck. He wished he'd been able to fight longer. He kept his eyes focused downward, staring at the worn blue practice mat, intentionally _not_ looking at the actual Moroi watching from the bleachers, but caught just a glimpse of Malina and Zeklos out of the corner of his eye. They were still deep in conversation, and Malina was smiling.

Nikitin's large hand rested briefly on Dimitri's shoulder, and Dimitri released Sasha. He and the other triad members bowed briefly to one another, a courtesy gesture trained into them since their earliest martial arts instruction. "Nice 'Strigoi'," Nikitin said. "Remember that, we'll be discussing Strigoi psychology in class on Monday. Switch."

Sasha traded to play guardian and Viktor took the Strigoi role; Dimitri stood back as Moroi and Nikitin stayed at his shoulder. Nikitin had skipped over the Moroi observer component of the triad but none of the three commented or complained. "Begin," he said.

Sasha attacked and Viktor feinted and nearly got around him. Dimitri noted the weakness in Sasha's technique. The Moroi observer in the triad – Dimitri's role for this round - served a dual purpose: a tangible stand-in for a real, defensible Moroi, and an expert observer, offering feedback and critique at the end of each round. Dimitri had never quite learned how to give feedback – his weakness in the verbal arena crippled him here - but he had learned to recognize weaknesses and to physically demonstrate and teach alternate techniques. He'd earned his reputation among the novices for being the best because of his physical skills, but also because he was the best peer instructor and brought out the best in his partners. Every novice, Dimitri included, craved mastering every basic skill, learning every new technique, discovering any new twist or innovation. Anything and everything they learned now could someday keep their Moroi – and themselves – alive.

Dimitri understood the value of the Moroi position – he often learned as much from his partners' successes and mistakes as from his own battles – but he still disliked the passive role. Tonight he actively hated it. He wanted – needed – to be fighting, not restricted to observing and taking up space until he was successfully defended or "killed".

Sasha and Viktor's battle ended mercifully quickly – Sasha applied the wooden practice stake with textbook technique – and Dimitri mentally catalogued the alternate attacks and defenses he'd considered during their match. A glint of silver from his discarded jacket derailed his attention. He hadn't been asked to return the real stake after the ward exercise. He'd felt wrong leaving it in his room but couldn't bring himself to voluntarily surrender it. He'd compromised, carrying it with him, rationalizing that he could return it more easily if asked. He also – if he was being truly honest with himself – felt better carrying the weapon.

Nikitin's voice pulled him back to the scene in front of him. "Switch," he said again. Nikitin should have asked Dimitri to give feedback on the match. He could have made his own suggestions, corrections, or even given praise. He should have given Dimitri more – likely futile - instruction in providing verbal feedback. He could have left their triad and moved on to another group. Instead he stayed silent but showed every sign of staying with their group to the exclusion of the other triads around them.

Neither Dimitri nor his partners commented on Nikitin's continued breech in match etiquette and Dimitri took the guardian role, relieved to stretch his painfully constricted muscles. Viktor kept the Strigoi role and attacked, using the same gradeschool feint to get through Dimitri's defenses. Malina's quiet laughter reached them and Dimitri stumbled. He'd almost completely succeeded in blocking her out. Viktor carried through, pulling Dimitri down and away and almost captured Sasha, playing Moroi. Viktor missed only because Dimitri caught him in a lucky clip on the shoulder as he regained his balance.

The near castastrophe snapped Dimitri's attention back to sharp focus. Losing a sparring match was unusual for him, but failing to defend his Moroi was unacceptable. He couldn't let himself be distracted, not even by Malina - not even by Zeklos. He renewed his defense, calculating every hit, determining every block with awareness of his Moroi's safety. He used every trick he knew to pull the Strigoi's attention from the Moroi to himself. He focused on the kill, on staking the Strigoi, on keeping his Moroi safe.

Nikitin stepped beside him, jarring his focus once again. He kept fighting – he hadn't been told to stop – and Nikitin spoke so low that he had to strain to hear. Nikitin's voice held a mixture of indeterminate warning, mild curiosity, and carefully placed indifference – all completely out of place.

"Would you fight differently if the Strigoi was attacking you?"


	17. Chapter 17

_Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy and my imagination carried on for the ride..._

* * *

Dimitri didn't understand the question, and before he could ask and clarify, Guardian Ershova's voice boomed, three triads behind him and to his left. "Guardian Nikitin!" Her voice, swallowed up by the poor acoustic of the cavernous space, still carried. "I think we're done for this evening, don't you?'

Nikitin bowed sharply in acknowledgement and turned away from Dimitri's group. He clapped his hands above his head, signaling the end of the class. Dimitri stopped mid-thrust, then deflected one last blow that Viktor wasn't able to check. Ershova had never ended class so abruptly, and never with time to spare on the clock. Dimitri turned to Nikitin, but he was gone, circulating among the other triads – their activity gradually slowing to a stop - on the far side of the gymnasium. He turned back to ask his partners, but saw only relief – not confusion – on their faces, so he bowed to them and began to gather his gear.

He could ask Nikitin later, but for now Zekloa and Malina were already making their way down the bleachers. He couldn't help but notice that even among the other Moroi they looked right together. They moved down the steps nearly in sync, slender and graceful as ballet dancers even bundled in their bulky coats. Their coloring was different but their features matched, pale and high cheek-boned and beautiful. Even he had to admit that they made an attractive pair. He just didn't have to watch them flaunt it.

He crouched next to his bag, ignoring the bodies of his novice classmates moving around him as they gathered their own gear and greeted their friends. More Moroi came down from the bleachers and joined the novices, and the buzz of their conversations filled his ears. He concentrated on packing his workout bag and the gray concrete floor, and the edge of the blue mat where the bag sat just slightly askew. Those distractions gave him a few more precious seconds of muted awareness, but his dhampir senses wouldn't let him completely shut out Zeklos and Malina. The pair walked toward him, unerring in their destination, while the rest of his classmates - both dhampir and Moroi - walked around him.

"Have a good weekend," Nikitin called out. Dimitri looked up and his sharp eyes – and intentional focus on anything else but the Moroi approaching him – caught Nikitin's last sidelong glance at Ershova. "Check your monitoring assignments and we'll see you first thing Monday morning."

Katya bounded past him, interrupting his line of sight, stopping just short of tackling Zeklos in her exuberance. She smiled up at him, ignoring Malina. "I can't believe it, I thought for sure she was going to keep us all night. If I'd known she accepted bribes I would have tried days ago."

"You didn't," Zeklos grinned. Dimitri looked back down at his bag.

"Nope," Katya agreed, voice cheerful, "but only because I couldn't figure out how to smuggle the model up to her apartment. I still may try it for next week. Do you think she'd like a weightlifter type or a cross-country runner?"

Malina laughed, sounding blissfully unconcerned, and Dimitri's hands tightened. He heard other movement among the group – Zeklos, Malina, and Katya had stopped just a few meters away from him - and he stiffened when he identified one sound as footsteps threading through the crowd to reach him. He kept looking down, unseeing, into his bag, and didn't look up when Malina put her hand on his shoulder.

"What do you want?"

She stepped back, immediately on guard. He usually sought her out: she made the effort to come see him to observe his class and he made sure he reciprocated the attention. But tonight he wasn't interested in good manners.

"Are you coming to dinner?" she asked cautiously.

He stood up then, invading her personal space, not caring that he was being obvious about it. His voice was low and – under the circumstances, he thought - controlled. "What did he say to you?"

Malina's stunned silence and the way their nearest classmates stopped to stare should have warned him that he was making a mistake, but his control had slipped too far. "What were you doing with him?"

Zeklos's voice, smooth, flowed over him from somewhere behind his left shoulder. "We were just talking. Don't give her a hard time."

The implication that _he_ was being unreasonable stung and should have been his cue to back away but he kept going, his emotional momentum only gaining speed. He stepped closer. He didn't grab her – his control would never slip _that_ far – but he came close. "Don't you even care that he's with Katya?"

Zeklos inserted himself between them but Malina was already moving. She snapped her whole body away. "If you still want Katya she's right here. I talk to who I want." She tossed her head back and forcibly took Zeklos's arm. "Sorry about that, _cousin,"_ she said, emphasizing the exaggerated familial term Royals sometimes used with one another. "I don't know what his problem is."

He didn't want Katya like that any more, she was twisting his words. But before he could formulate a protest, Katya stepped into the tension vibrating between them.

"He doesn't want me, you don't have to worry about that," she said, watching Dimitri closely like he was some dangerous, caged animal. Her voice turned carefully chiding, teasing, intentionally trying to lighten the mood. "But Dimitri, you don't have any claim on her. And even if you did, you know better than to push a woman around!"

His body burned, humiliation and anger competing. He _did_ know better. Zeklos was making him irrational. Zeklos was making him crazy. It was all Zeklos's fault.

Katya stepped closer, mock-whispering, making sure everyone could hear. "You were never this jealous when we were dating, you must really like her."

"I don't find jealousy attractive - or flattering," Malina interrupted, her temper flaring again.

Ivan's voice was mild, calming, "I agree."

"I'm not jealous." Dimitri answered, subdued, frustrated, and embarrassed.

He wasn't jealous, not exactly. But seeing Zeklos with Malina simply reminded him too much of his father with his Moroi wife. He'd spent years fighting that envy, and he had obviously failed. He simply knew that his father would never hit or humiliate his Moroi wife like he did his dhampir mistress. He would never use his elemental control to choke his Moroi children as he had his dhampir offspring. Dimitri still had few, if any, friends with control over air. Moroi were meant to be with Moroi, any dhampir dalliances were just that. He knew that fact as clearly as he knew how to get a stake through a Strigoi's ribcage. It wasn't the rightness and social acceptability of the Moroi pairing he'd envied: he envied the safety he'd never had.

Malina narrowed her eyes. "I don't care what it was. You don't dictate who I talk to."

Dimitri knew he'd made a mistake - possibly a terminal one. "I was out of line," he said, finally. "It won't happen again."

Arm still entwined with Zeklos's, her green eyes flashed. "Then what the hell were you thinking?"

She wanted an explanation he couldn't give, especially with Zeklos standing with her and the audience they'd attracted. "I was out of line," he repeated. "I'm sorry." Her shoulders twitched. "Really. I'm sorry. "

"What about me?" Ivan's voice was light. "Do I get an apology too?"

The word itself was painful enough; Dimitri couldn't look him in the eye. "I apologize."

"Apology accepted," Ivan answered easily.

Ivan turned to the small crowd that had formed, drawn in by the drama. "Nothing more to see here, move along." Remarkably - or not-so-remarkably considering Zeklos's hereditary charisma – everyone did. When Dimitri and Malina stayed, facing one another, awkwardly frozen in a just slightly less tense standoff, Zeklos took charge again. "Come on, let's go eat."


	18. Chapter 18

_Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy - playing in her castles!_

* * *

Malina stayed at Ivan's side, chatting too loudly about Moroi gossip and class assignments. Ivan answered quietly, his arm brushing her shoulder lightly just a few times as they went through the cafeteria line. Having Zeklos talk to her was bad enough, having him touch her, no matter how apparently innocently, was yet another rip in Dimitri's soul. He would have been anywhere else - facing a Strigoi would have been a pleasant alternative – but Katya linked her arm through his and made sure they followed.

She handed him a tray and he took it. They ate well: their choices stretched the length of the room. Moroi needed food as well as blood and the novices with their intensive training curriculum benefited from excellent nutrition. Dimitri would have left his tray empty so Katya selected his meal for him. She chose just a few things she knew he liked – a sweet bread that reminded him of home, beet and cabbage soup, and hot chocolate, a treat they didn't usually have. She snuck an extra packet onto his tray. She'd taught him the trick of adding an extra packet for more flavor.

"I don't know how you survive eating so little," Katya noted, adding a protein dish – a smoked salmon-like meat from Lake Baikal. "Aren't growing boys supposed to eat whole cows or something? And with all the extra workouts I'd think you'd be starving. I know I am." Her tray was piled high.

"I eat when I'm home."

"We need to get you home, then."

She pressed her tray into the small of his back, guiding him after Malina and Ivan. Zeklos had chosen the quiet corner where Dimitri sat had been sitting the first day Zeklos had arrived. The dark window next to them reflected their approach.

Zeklos greeted them warmly but Malina kept eating. Tension radiated from her as she barely acknowledged their presence. Katya set her tray across from Malina and pulled Dimitri down beside her. He almost resisted, but her grip was solid. She squeezed his fingers in gentle approval when he took his seat.

Zeklos watched them, openly curious. He reached across the table for Katya and held her hand briefly, letting his fingers linger on the inside of her palm. Dimitri turned his head.

"_I'm _not jealous but I'm envious," Ivan started, addressing Katya and inclining his head toward Dimitri. "You know each other so well; I keep seeing it when you're together. Should _I_ be worried?" He smiled, showing only the slightest true concern.

Katya glanced at Dimitri with affection and only a little sadness. "We've been friends a long time."

"Maybe someday we'll know each other that well," Ivan said, his voice both cautious and intimate.

Dimitri turned sharply to stare at him and Malina nearly dropped her utensils. Moroi, especially Royal Moroi, simply did not plan long-term relationships with novices or guardians. They might father dhampir children, but they rarely had any kind of ongoing relationship with the women who carried and raised them. A relationship might develop unintentionally, like Malina's grandmother and her brother's guardian, or Dimitri's father's years of twisted interest in his mother, but _planning_ to continue a Moroi-dhampir romance was deeply discouraged and rarely ever attempted. Even Malina, as much as she had pursued Dimitri, had predicated her interest with the understanding that graduation would almost certainly end be the end of whatever they cultivated in the meantime.

Dimitri recovered first, in a flash of understanding and anger. The hope that Katya would be safe after graduation vanished and his fear and protective instincts returned full force. Zeklos was simply grooming Katya for the future.

Dimitri kept his voice controlled but his anger permeated every word. "If you're looking for a bloodwhore you need to look somewhere else."

Katya kicked him, hard, and the crowded chairs clattered as Malina extricated herself. "Forget it. I'm not doing this."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Zeklos hissed, attracting glances from students at nearby tables. Dimitri was oddly relieved to finally see a genuine, unrehearsed response from him.

Katya grabbed Malina's hand and spun on Dimitri. "You need to be quiet now." She turned back to Malina. "Stay. Not for him because I know he's being a jerk but for me. Please. Ivan's right: I know Dimitri really well, so I can say with absolute certainty that this is completely unlike him. What sucks is that he's been like this for the last two weeks so I think maybe he's been possessed. I don't know _what _has gotten into him -

"_And it needs to stop," _she glared back at him pointedly, "but once he gets his exorcism I _know_ he'll go back to being the sweet, quiet, mysterious Dimitri we used to know and love. Please."

Fascinated in spite of himself, Dimitri watched the girls' silent exchange as Malina acquiesced. He hadn't realized they were friends.

Katya turned back to glare at him. "Ivan is being _romantic, _not creepy. And he knows as well as I do that we won't stay together."

Ivan started to speak, looking like he meant to argue with her. She smiled, and the sweet look she gave him belied her practical words. "We've got plenty of time until graduation. Don't worry about us."

Ivan squeezed her hand, but looked less certain than Katya. "There's plenty of time," he echoed. "We'll be fine." He seemed to consider his next words carefully. "I know you have more history, but she's important to me, too. I promise I only have the best intentions. You really don't have to worry."

"And I swear I will get Nikitin to put you on 24/7 monitoring duty if you don't find another way of dealing with your issues," Katya said. "So _leave_ _us alone_ or tell us what's wrong." Her tone softened. "You know I'll help if I can."

Dimitri shook his head, trapped between the temptation to tell Katya everything and Zeklos and Malina's scrutiny. He couldn't escape with the truth so he chose the most available lie, the one Katya had originally accused him of. "You were right. I'm jealous. I don't like seeing you with someone else." It was also easier to apologize with the lie. "I'm sorry. I'll deal with it."

Malina flinched, and he realized too late that she'd be hurt by the admission – however fabricated - that he was jealous of Katya.

Katya stared at him, and Dimitri had the distinct impression that she alone in their small group didn't believe him. "Then I guess we need to talk. But you –" she looked pointedly at both Ivan and Malina – "don't need to be worried, about either of us." She narrowed her eyes then made a show of shaking tension out of her shoulders. "Now how about a safer topic? In line Dimitri and I were just talking about home."

Emotionally whiplashed, Dimitri started eating his soup, confused and helpless, unable to do anything to fix Malina's hurt feelings or do any more to try to protect Katya. Ivan leaned back, affecting nonchalance, as if he was unaffected by Dimitri and Katya's exchange.

"That's interesting. While we were watching you practice, Malina and I were comparing notes about family. Belikov, how about you, where's your family?"

Zeklos would show his true colors someday soon, but for now he was on good behavior. Dimitri wasn't changing anything by trying to unmask him, and every attempt he'd made to protect Katya so far had backfired. For now, he needed to change tactics, needed to play along with Zeklos's game. Besides, he wanted to prove to Malina that he was better than Zeklos, prove he had better control, prove he wasn't an irrational, dangerous, misogynistic ass.

"What?"

"Your family," Zeklos prompted, carefully. "Mother, brothers, sisters?"

Dimitri paused a moment longer, considering. He instincts screamed to say nothing, to do everything he could to protect them, but Zeklos wasn't asking anything he couldn't find out elsewhere. And as long as he stayed far away from them, could it hurt to tell Zeklos about his sisters?

Dimitri shrugged and swallowed the hot liquid, forcing a casual tone. "Sonja and Viktoria are on the elementary campus. Sonja is a math whiz like Malina, and in her guardian workouts she's focused and she has great technique. Viktoria is strugging in her academic classes but she's strong. She'll make a very good fighter."

"Karolina?" Katya prodded. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him, encouragingly. When she and Dimitri had dated she'd gotten close with his older sister, and had continued the friendship even after ending her intimate involvement with Dimitri.

Dimitri almost looked away but made himself continue. Zeklos could hear about Karolina just as easily from Katya. Dimitri didn't agree with Karolina's choices, but he understood the reasons behind them. If _he_ told Zeklos, maybe, if Zeklos had any true kindness, he would leave them alone.

"Karolina is two years older than me. Our family… has been through a lot. When Karolina graduated she decided she didn't want to leave our mother alone. Our grandmother moved in a couple years before, but Karolina decided it wasn't enough. So she took her name off the guardian roster, went home, got pregnant, got a job. She seems happy. Our mother seems happy too – for the first time in a long time – so for her it was the right choice."

He must have imagined it, but for a moment he almost believed he saw pain in Zeklos's eyes. Malina's foot brushed his under the table, not suggestively, but in sympathy. He looked at her in surprise. She didn't smile, but she did meet his eyes. "How old were you when your grandmother moved in?" she asked quietly.

She was making the connections in his history. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He answered her honestly anyway. "Thirteen."

Zeklos sat very still. "Three sisters?" he asked tentatively.

Dimitri shrugged, feeling strangely awkward, and even more strangely, not angry. "Yes. And my mother, grandmother, and my nephew, Paul – he's two now, I think." He had an uncomfortable, disquieting realization. "How about you?"

Zeklos's eyes met his. "I have an older brother. We don't get along. My mother. Father is around but he travels a lot – I used to think that was a good thing." He seemed to be trying to tell Dimitri something. He sounded almost apologetic.

He and Ivan stared at each other. Katya broke the silence.

"Thank _god_," she said. "I knew Dimitri had it in him to have a polite, rational conversation.

"Malina," she turned to the Moroi girl, "I know he doesn't deserve it after how he's been acting, and I know I shouldn't stick my nose in your relationship but I'm going to anyway. If you don't have plans already, when you're done with dinner, go for a walk with Dimitri. He's got some explaining to do and you deserve to hear it first.

"Dimitri," she continued, "I'm glad to see you can be yourself again but whatever is bothering you isn't going away, and I don't think jealousy from our dead and gone relationship is the real explanation. Now you are going to talk to me sometime _very soon_ whether you like it or not, but if you like Malina as much as I think you do, you will talk to her first. I want you to reassure her and tell her what is really going on and _cut this shit out_."

Zeklos looked at her, a cautious and worshipful expression on his face. "I love a strong woman," he grinned.

She grinned in return. "You do. Now if _you_ don't have any other plans, I'd like to invite you back to my room to watch a movie." She glared at Dimitri, daring him to object. His usual screaming instincts were muted. He didn't feel the same need to protest.

Malina spoke up instead, studiously not looking at Dimitri. "Aren't the guardians tougher on the girl novices about Moroi in your rooms? Especially now?"

The complications of dhampir reproduction contributed to a clear but unspoken sexism in the way novice dhampir females were treated. Dhampir women in general were socialized to avoid birth control - the dhampir race was decreasing and every healthy birth was reason for celebration - but a pregnant novice was a waste of training and talent. _Novice _girls were encouraged to use birth control or stay abstinent, but if they were close with their non-guardian mothers and sisters they were often torn. Many novice girls only paired with other dhampirs – taking advantage of racial sterility – but some, like Katya, seemed to prefer Moroi.

Relationships like Dimitri and Malina's - Male dhampirs with female Moroi - were less complicated. Dhampir males generally accepted that they would not father children, although intentionally preventing pregnancy went counter to basic racial and personal interests. But few – if any – Moroi girls were willing to carry a Dhampir baby. The general health and disease resistance of both races meant that barrier contraception was less important than the use of birth control in general, but whatever method they chose, Moroi girls who did pair with Dhampir males were militant about birth control.

Adult guardians and Moroi faculty, possibly unfairly, were therefore stricter with novice girls, concerned with losing yet another dhampir girl from the guardian ranks. The changes and additions to the novice schedule only reinforced pre-existing rules and restrictions, so Malina's comment was inoffensive and likely accurate.

But even though she wouldn't look at him, Dimitri had the same feeling he'd had when Malina had stepped in front of him the first night at the party with Zeklos. Even angry at him, even hurt that he might still have feelings for Katya, even though his role was to protect _her_, she still seemed to want to protect him.

Katya ignored the possible subtext and took Malina's remark as a friendly caution. She eyed the room thoughtfully. "Good point. I think the majority of the guardians are either eating, on patrol, or monitoring at the moment. I don't think they're going to be watching the dorms or checking rooms until much later, like around curfew. Ivan, I'm sure I can sneak you _out_ as long as you don't mind walking yourself back to your dorm." Moroi curfew remained in effect, but in an unexplained reversal, was now enforced less strictly than in the novice dorms.

"I don't mind," Ivan said, reaching back across the table to take her hand.

Katya barely glanced at Dimitri and Malina. She pulled Ivan to his feet. "Then I think we should leave now."

* * *

_Author's note - a comment from Roix got me mildly obsessed with rationalizing Paul's age. Paul's age only works if Rose mis-guessed his age. When Rose met him she thought he was about 10, but she wasn't around kids much, so I think he *could * have been just 8. Roix pointed out to me that Karolina was two years older - we found her age referenced in Blood Promise during Rose's time in Siberia. So at the time of Vampire Academy Dimitri = 24, Karolina = 26, so she either had 10 year old Paul when she was in school at 16, or waited until she graduated and was 18, and Paul is only 8… I went with her having him after she graduated and Rose mis-guessing his age. _

_I am the Queen of Overthinking These Kinds of Things._

_:-D _


	19. Chapter 19

_Vampire Academy is all Richelle Mead's!_

* * *

Dimitri and Malina watched them go.

"She's a force of nature."

Letting Katya leave with Zeklos without protest left Dimitri unbalanced, but he anchored himself on Katya's flawed but unshakable insistence on believing the best of the people she cared about. He could almost believe she was right. He envied the solid way she experienced the world. "She is."

Malina turned away and stared out the dark window, looking past their reflections into the blackness. Unsmiling, she pushed herself away from the table, avoiding looking him in the eye. "Come on, let's go for that walk. Katya's been really nice to me but I'm a little afraid of what she'll do to us if we don't."

She didn't say anything else, just dropped off her cafeteria tray and retrieved her coat, wrapping herself tightly in the thick wool. Dimitri followed her outside. Past the doors she stopped and looked up at the starlight, her face softly illuminated by the gaslights lining the path. A few strands of her long curls lifted in a brief gust of wind. Dimitri kept his hands to himself but his fingers twitched, wanting to touch the silky strands. He waited, irrationally worried about braving her hurt and anger.

She buried her hands deep in her coat pockets and set off on the path. Dimitri followed, and after passing just a few buildings she shook her head irritably. "Just walk with me. I won't take you ordering me around, but I don't want you following me like a guardian."

He caught up with her in two easy strides of his long legs and walked next to her in continued silence. They passed the mammoth, dark buildings of the central campus: a mismash of blocky, Soviet, cement utilitarian construction, European gothic architecture, and classic Russian, onion-domed beauty. The last building they passed was Dimitri's favorite: a small onion-domed chapel. There was a larger church on campus, an ornamented gothic cathedral more in line with historically European roots of their races, but Dimitri preferred the curves and colors of the small Russian one. Communist Party-required atheism from the old Soviet republic had passed Moroi and dhampir cultures by for the most part so both churches were well attended. Dimitri simply felt better in the smaller structure.

He stayed somewhat lost in thought, still automatically vigilant, glad that the silence was delaying Malina's anger. They passed the edge of the small forest that covered the north side of campus and made their way around the perimeter of the academy grounds. They were uncomfortably close to the ward boundary but he didn't protest Malina's route. No Strigoi had been found in the vicinity since the original sighting. On his own he would have chosen a different path, but he wouldn't suggest it. He'd overstepped with Malina too much; it wasn't his place to tell her where to go. He was responsible for keeping her safe, wherever she chose to be. If he were her assigned guardian he would have been in an even less enviable position – if she was harmed he would be held responsible for allowing her to choose a dangerous path, but he would have little true authority to influence her choices. He could suggest a safer route but if she chose danger it was still his responsibility to keep her safe.

They reached the physical plant, the site of the ward exercise, the jumble of massive metal structures, harsh lights, and deep shadows even more imposing without the crowd of Moroi and guardians. Wire fencing surrounded different pieces of machinery set up on cement slab foundations. The ground around them was bare dirt patched with scrub grasses and snow.

The lights and long shadows stretched and blended into the surroundings. Even with eyes made to see in dimness, Dimitri could see only so far. A few scrub trees lit up, but the rest of the light seemed almost swallowed by the blackness. The air and the ground beneath them buzzed and hummed from the electricity running through the plant, so pervasive that Dimitri felt it in his bones. His jaw ached and his legs tingled, like he'd pushed himself to far, too long, on a run.

Malina stopped by a chain-link fence that surrounded a generator the size of a small car. She shivered. "You're cold," he stated, apologetic.

"I'm fine."

He waited, dreading what she would say.

"You were a jerk tonight."

He shouldn't make excuses but he tried anyway. "I wasn't mad at you."

She shook her head. "That almost makes it worse. If you're mad about something else and taking it out on me…" she held her breath, and let it out slowly. "Then maybe I don't want to do this."

She wasn't yelling, but her quiet admission was worse. He realized he preferred her temper – at least then he knew she cared. It bothered him more than it should that she might end things between them.

"And don't say you'll try to be better," Malina cut him off before he could try to answer. "Katya's right. You have to talk to me."

He'd lost control, more than once. He owed her an explanation, even if Katya hadn't insisted. But what could he tell her?

She took another deep breath. "If you still want to be with Katya –"

"I don't." He interrupted. "I'm sorry. I had to say something to get her to leave me alone."

She wasn't reassured. "You could have said something else."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I swear. I promise you. I'm not jealous of Katya."

She pinched her lips and held back her response, then shook her head irritably. He got the sense that she would have argued more, but she was afraid of the answer. "Great. So it is Ivan."

It took him a minute to process the comical resignation in her tone, and almost missed the undercurrent of how truly worried she sounded.

"No!"

"I thought he was _joking_. I can't believe I didn't see it before. You two just need to kiss and make up."

"No!" he repeated, unbalanced by the incomprehensible idea, the unresolved issue of Katya – at least for the moment - wiped away. "Who was joking?"

"Ivan. I was watching you and he was trying to be charming and he said you were gorgeous."

Dimitri couldn't begin to guess the new game Zeklos could be playing. He felt like he was far behind in a long-distance race, with almost no chance of catching up. "What _exactly_ did he say?"

"Something like 'yes, he's gorgeous, do you think he'd consider a threesome'. I thought he was just trying to shock me to get my attention."

Dimitri could only assume that Malina was referring to the exchange on the bleachers when he's seen Zeklos make Malina laugh, finally getting past her caution. He couldn't wrap his brain around it – of all the possible things he'd imagined Zeklos saying to her, that hadn't been anywhere near the list. "What else did he say?"

"He said he was kidding, he liked blondes. Then he took the smooth route again and said that I was very pretty, that if I was available he'd be interested."

"What did you say?" He dreaded the answer, but he had to ask.

She blushed and squared her shoulders. "I told him if he was hitting on me he should know I hit back."

Dimitri laughed out loud, astonished at Malina's boldness and her apparent resistance to Zeklos's charm.

"He laughed too. He's not so bad. I've been avoiding him because you acted like – I don't know, like he was dangerous. But he's funny, and _nice. _So when do I get the wedding invitation?" Her tone was half joking, half annoyed, hoping she was wrong but afraid that she wasn't.

"Ivan's not my type." He tried to respond to Malina's tone, not his usual defensive, angry reaction to anything remotely connected to Zeklos. He took a chance and smoothed a stray strand of hair back from her face. "I've always liked brunettes."

"So Ivan Zeklos isn't your secret lover?" She still sounded cautious.

Dimitri kept his voice even. "The farthest thing from it."

"Then what?" she demanded, her temper flaring again, making him both relieved and helpless that he hadn't lost her - yet. "You've obviously got history."

The simple truth was easy, the full truth too complicated. He felt the same temptation he'd felt with Katya – to tell Malina everything. He knew better, though. He deflected the question. "The first time I ever talked to him was at the party. You introduced us."

She looked like she was ready to argue again, and again changed her mind. "I like him," she stated. Dimitri flinched. "I like you more. But I'm not going to avoid him."

Dimitri bit back his automatic protest. There was no way she'd believe him and he'd already done too much damage tonight. He should just let it go, try instead to salvage what he could to keep their relationship from derailing completely. But - "Just be careful. Don't trust him. He's a good actor, I know, just – don't ever be alone with him. Don't get taken in by his charm." Dimitri silently cursed himself for letting Katya take Zeklos back to her room, alone. He'd failed in taking his own advice. He could only continue to hope that it wouldn't start so soon.

Malina folded her arms across her chest. He'd messed up again, and he could feel her disengaging, the way all the other Moroi girls had. He'd always been relieved when the other girls hadn't pressed for more out of his brief time with them, but now he realized he had no experiences to draw on to stop Malina from leaving. "Don't tell me what to do. Besides, what's the worst he could do?"

There were too many answers to that question.

"Hey," he heard her say, but he was lost. His mind stuttered between the ghosts of his childhood, her solid presence, and how crushingly alone he felt today.

"Hey," she said again, squeezing his hand. Concern almost entirely replaced her anger and doubt, but he barely noticed. He tried to pull himself out of the flashback – he could see the sharp, bright edges of the machinery and the blackness beyond, he could feel the vibrations of the electrical current and machinery crawling along his skin – but he couldn't shake the way his throat closed in physical memory, and he couldn't un-see the violence. "Hey," she said a third time, softer. She touched his cheek, tried to catch his eye, tried to stop him from turning inward. He couldn't respond, couldn't make his mouth move, couldn't form the words to explain.

She stopped trying to get his attention and simply wrapped her arms around him, giving him the contact and connection he hadn't realized he needed. She pressed their faces together. Her cheek was cool and smooth and soft. For just a moment, he felt safe.

"Isn't that sweet?" A tenor voice called.


	20. Chapter 20

_Vampire Academy and Dimitri all belong to Richelle Mead!_

* * *

Dimitri crouched defensively and had Malina behind him before his next breath. "_Run_." He squinted into the blackness, but it was like a wall.

Then the Strigoi was there: a tall, slender, well-dressed man, seemingly in his early thirties, standing at the edge of the light. He had the physical characteristics Dimitri expected - pale skin, red-rimmed pupils, more pronounced fangs – but Dimitri somehow expected the Strigoi to be more alien, more frightening, more monstrous. Instead, he could almost pass for Moroi. A chilling, murderous Moroi, but not an out-of-control monster.

The Strigoi locked eyes with Dimitri and smiled – a cold smile at odds with his neat appearance and relaxed posture. Dimitri held his ground. What had been drilled into him and the other novices their entire lives – that Strigoi could seem just like the people they had been but were therefore that much more dangerous - now had new meaning.

The Strigoi started slowly toward him, white skin even paler in the lights of the physical plant. Then he stopped. There was no magical evidence of the ward; no shimmering force-field, no invisible barrier to press against, he simply could not take another step. He smiled wider, his eyes glinting red as they caught the light. Dimitri's fingers cramped. He tried to hold them loosely, preparing for a strike, but his empty hands _hurt_ from not holding a weapon.

"Dhampir," he called. "Can I ask you just one small question?" Dimitri took a step forward before he caught himself. A Moroi professor had compelled him once, in a class demonstration, and he now had reason to be grateful for that exercise.

The Strigoi laughed, low and grating. "Very nice, Dhampir. I admit it would be much more sporting if you came by your own choice. I could use some practice." His eyes shifted to something behind Dimitri, but Dimitri couldn't take the risk of following his gaze.

"Little earth-user," he called. "I can do that, too." He grinned, flashing his fangs. He crouched down and plunged his hands into the cold hard ground up to his wrists. He ripped a furrow along the invisible barrier of the ward leaving a rough, dark line almost a foot deep and at least ten feet long.

Dimitri couldn't look, couldn't imagine what Malina was doing, couldn't believe she hadn't run. "Go. Get away from here. _Please."_

The Strigoi stayed focused on Malina but Dimitri caught the flicker in his eyes. Dimitri could see that the Strigoi was baiting him, measuring his reaction and adjusting his behavior accordingly, but his only clear thought was protecting Malina. "Young one," the Strigoi called, uprooting his hands and shaking off the soil, "If the handsome Dhampir won't play, how about you? I could tell you things, show you things… I had an earth specialization, too, before I was Awakened." He lowered his voice confidingly. "I don't miss it. I never got to do anything _good_ with that silly magic. Trading that for _this _–" he bent and ripped another long, deep line into the ground and flashed his fangs - "strength, speed, eternal life. No contest, pretty thing. Come step over the line and I can show you…"

"I prefer breathing." Her voice shook but her answer was loud and clear.

Dimitri moved, trying to block Malina from the Strigoi's line of sight. "Leave her alone."

The Strigoi smiled, cruel and seductive, ignoring Dimitri. "You, gorgeous, might just be worth the cost. I could show you things – much more than your Dhampir _stud_ could ever dream." He licked his lips and sunk his fangs into his dirt-covered wrist, blatantly pornographic. Blood dripped down his chin and ran along his bare arm. Dropping his trousers and masturbating would have been less offensive.

The satisfying crack of bones mixed with the jarring pain in his elbow and the burn of adrenaline, anger and disgust. He followed through on the strike, slamming the heel of his other hand into the Strigoi's face, bloodying his teeth, breaking his nose, cheekbone, and right eye socket. The Strigoi twisted away easily, wrapped his arm around Dimitri's neck and trapped his arms behind his back. He forced him, almost carelessly, to his knees. Malina screamed.

"Always leave yourself room to maneuver, Dhampir," the Strigoi murmured in his ear. He'd followed his own advice. The tumultuous ward process left surprisingly little evidence, but now Dimitri could see the faint traces on the ground, almost a meter and a half away. The Strigoi had only pretended to be blocked by the ward. Dimitri had sealed his own fate when he'd lost control and crossed the line.

"What's your name?" the Strigoi whispered in Dimitri's ear. The metallic smell of his breath turned Dimitri's stomach. He knew the smell - Moroi sometimes smelled like that, especially after a visit to the feeders – but this smell had an added dimension: the stink of decay and death. He struggled, but the Strigoi tightened his grip and twisted him back around, forcing him to look at Malina.

Every detail stood out to him in painful clarity. Malina was on her hands and knees, clawing at the soil, her coat and gloves lumped beside her in a discarded heap. She bent over, long hair tangling in the dirt and dead grass and patchy snow. While he stared, helpless, she took a deep, shuddering breath and angrily swiped away tears, leaving grimy streaks across her cheeks. He could understand her terror but he was baffled by the rest. He could only watch as her shoulders shook, fighting more sobs while she shoved her hands harder and more frantically against the frozen ground.

"She's next," the Strigoi hissed. He raked his fangs along the side of Dimitri's neck. "_What is your name_?"

Dimitri struggled but the Strigoi jammed his blood wrist sharply against his windpipe and twisted and tightened his hold on his arms, nearly dislocating his shoulders. Dimitri's ankles strained as he fought to keep his feet under himself despite being forced to kneel. Pain and confusion clouded his thoughts. Why was he still alive? Why wouldn't Malina run?

His mind flipped through scenarios too awful to consider for long. The Strigoi could feed from him – Strigoi preferred Moroi blood but would still drink from dhampirs and humans. He could compel him to get to Malina – Dimitri couldn't resist him for long. Worst of all – worse even than losing Malina, though the horror of that was too much to even contemplate – the Strigoi could take him and turn him: stealing his soul and leaving him a monster, preying on the Moroi he had spent his entire life training to protect. He'd been taught that in most Strigoi-guardian encounters death followed quickly for one or the other. He ignored the mounting horror that in this case death was not his worst option.

He closed his eyes – he couldn't risk the Strigoi's compulsion. He kept struggling but took advantage of his immobility, cataloging a hundred possible techniques and his likelihood of success for each. He couldn't fail. He had to get the Strigoi away from Malina, and he had to kill him. There was no other choice.

He didn't get the chance.

"You can tell me later." Pain sliced through his neck. The euphoria of the bite flooded his system in another moment, pain transforming to pleasure, a near-orgasmic rush that made it impossible to consider anything else. Time slowed, and stopped. He floated, completely lost in bliss.

The world was perfect, beautiful, enchanting. He'd never known such perfect peace.

He soared, he spun. Waves of pleasure flowed over him like an oncoming tide. He let his head fall back, seeking more, fighting to ignore a prickling starting in his toes. The Strigoi drank, sending more waves of ecstasy crashing through him, but the prickling began to burn and spread through his lower legs like circulation being restored. The burning intensified and took on weight, pulling him further from the endorphin high. Dimitri fought the irritating and distracting sensation, wanting the sweetness of the bliss, but the pull downward trapped him even tighter.

Then somehow, through the haze of irritation and pleasure, Dimitri felt the weight in his coat pocket – he _did_ have a weapon.

He forced himself to concentrate, to think around the euphoria. His entire body protested; he only wanted to rediscover that perfect, pure bliss. Moving against that tide of want was painful, but the pins-and-needles sensation centered him. He remembered who and what he was.

He sagged as if yielding further to the Strigoi's tempting embrace, letting his sudden shift in weight pull the Strigoi off-balance. He fell into the Strigoi's chokehold, almost crushing his own windpipe, and the Strigoi's hold completely dislocated his right shoulder. He blocked the pain and reached the stake with his left hand, using the ground as leverage and pushed upward, reversing the line of force before the Strigoi could readjust. His eyes blurred as he battled the remnants of the endorphins, but his training took over as he slammed the back of his head into the Strigoi's face. He twisted, his useless right arm swinging awkwardly, and struck with his left.

The silver stake penetrated the ribcage but turned in his hand, and by feel he could tell that his placement was just centimeters off. He stumbled, still lightheaded, and narrowly deflected the Strigoi's right hook with his dislocated shoulder. The pain blinded him but he pushed back, away from Malina, and tackled the Strigoi to the ground. He used his full weight and strength to shove the stake in deeper, praying he had the angle right to reach the heart.

The strike was inelegant, but effective. The Strigoi went limp, and the night exploded.


	21. Chapter 21

_Vampire Academy all belongs to Richelle Mead!_

* * *

Engines, floodlights, pounding. Running feet, followed by more floodlights. Hands lifting him, twisting his shoulder, screaming. More hands, pulling out his stake – he howled in outrage and the hands returned the stake with force, more expertly placed. Pulling him, carrying him closer to the buzzing, lighted physical plant. Back to Malina.

Battle training and protection exercises drilled into Dimitri since childhood kicked in – he had to be sure Malina was okay.

He scrambled to her and they grabbed for each other. "Are you okay?" she asked urgently.

"Why are you still here?" He cursed, shaking off the last haze of the endorphins. Malina's green eyes met his – clear and real among the chaos.

The ground pounded under his knees and he spun and crouched in front of Malina again. His stake was gone and it took him a few agonizing seconds to realize that the dark form crouching in front of him was one of his instructors, not another threat.

More guardians converged on them, but Dimitri saw only Malina. She threw her arms around him. "Are you okay," she repeated.

He assessed her quickly – no visible injuries, hands dirt-covered, eyes bright. He was numb. His heart raced. A hand appeared by his face and he flinched and twisted to guard Malina yet again, but more hands appeared and, disoriented, he let them help him and Malina to stand.

"We saw you on the monitors," one guardian said. Dimitri knew him, knew his name, but couldn't remember it. He was one of his professors. "We got here as fast as we could."

Another guardian, also a professor, surveyed the immediate area, "Talk when you get these two inside. I'll stay here and reconnoiter."

The third guardian assessed Malina, more closely than Dimitri had, but didn't separate them. When he was confident she was unhurt he assessed Dimitri, putting cautious traction on his shoulder, gentle fingers probing the bite on his neck. He continued to scan the immediate area. "Put some pressure on this." He clamped Dimitri's hand over the wound. It stung, and his hand shook.

His fear and fury slammed together in a roiling mess. "I told you to run!"

One guardian voice, low and soothing, was at his ear while another guardian stepped in front of him, blocking him from Malina.

Malina wiped her hands across her face, smearing more dirt. Her eyes were emerald-bright and her cheeks were tear-stained, her hair a tangled mess. She was absolutely stunning and Dimitri was absolutely furious with her. She glared at him around the bulk of the adult guardian. "_I_ was fine. _You_ were the one just about _getting yourself killed._

"I was protecting you!"

"The ward would have protected us! You attacked him!"

"You didn't run!"

"You didn't either!"

She cursed fluently and inventively and sprinted for the darkness. Two guardians tackled Dimitri while three more raced after her. They didn't touch her, didn't stop her. Instead they assumed a protective formation, immediately encircling her, containing her and protecting her at the same time. He knew that they assumed she was hysterical.

Dimitri struggled against the guardians, his arms pinned at his sides. Only Nikitin's presence kept him from foolishly taking on all of them. "Let me go!"

"Don't you dare," Malina snapped at her guardians, fully royal. She was so angry she was shaking, and Dimitri felt his own fury dim in response. "How does it feel?" she demanded. "Watching me put myself in danger for no reason?"

The jeep-mounted floodlights illuminated the area brighter than sunlight, making it difficult – but not impossible – for a Strigoi to penetrate the area again. Her guardians watched around Malina warily, alert for any danger that might come out of the blackness. They remained in formation – for the moment. The floodlights made an additional attack doubtful – only the most determined (or insane) Strigoi would even attempt it - but it was as psychologically rattling for the guardians as it was for Malina to be beyond the protection of the ward so soon after an attack.

The actual danger was slight, however, and Dimitri knew Malina's behavior was unpleasant but acceptable under the circumstances. The psychological affects on a Moroi witnessing an attack were unpredictable, and if she gained some measure of control by confronting the danger it was permissible. Dissociation after an attack – numbness, flat affect – was predictive of later post-traumatic reactions. Active coping was preferred – though surprising in a Moroi. The guardians allowed it.

He modulated his voice, toning down his anger slightly. "It's not the same thing. I'm supposed to keep you safe."

Her voice lowered, but not her fury. "NO! I was _not_ in danger. YOU were the idiot who went after him. I will not have you risking your life for me!"

She hadn't been terrified, she'd been angry. His anger dimmed further in his confusion. He was the top novice in the senior class. She'd watched him train and spar and been thrilled to see how well he fought. Novices were trained from childhood to guard Moroi. _They come first_. Moroi accepted as their birthright that dhampirs were meant to protect them. Malina not wanting his protection was as foreign and nonsensical and as baffling as a Moroi sunbathing at high noon, or a dhampir deciding to drink blood. He couldn't think of a thing to say.

Malina looked even more frustrated at his silence and his confusion. "Let him go," she ordered. The guardians released him without question and he covered half the distance between them in the time it took her to raise her hand. "No." she said. Her voice got quieter, less angry, but very firm. He hesitated. "Wait. Not because I'm ordering you, because I'm _asking_ you." Her voice softened, and she looked him in the eye, emerald green glowing neon in the artificial daylight. "I'm _fine. _We have a school full of guardians to keep us safe – _us_. If you do _anything_ like that again I will –" she searched the air for an appropriate threat – "I will go find some traffic and _play in it."_

Dimitri noted the sheen on her forehead, the glassy cast of her eyes, the tremor of her hands. Nikitin stepped into his field of vision – he'd seen it, too. "Miss Ivanskov," he said formally, politely. "Are you ready to go to the infirmary?"

"I'm fine." Her whole body was shaking.

"Humor us."

"Fine. As long as _he_ gets taken care of first."

"We'll let the doctor make those decisions. Please, Miss Ivashkov, it's time to come back inside the boundary, you've made your point."

"Don't patronize me," she muttered. She wiped the back of her hand across her face and stumbling a little as she crossed the ward line.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Nikitin caught her arm and supported her as she doubled over to vomit. Another guardian was ready with a wet cloth.

Dimitri ran to her. "Dammit, kind of ruined the impact of my little speech," she smiled weakly.

"I just want you to be safe." He whispered.

"We'll talk." She retorted, still shaky.

"Come on kids, let's move." Malina's three guardians took her from Nikitin and guided her into a guardian van. Dimitri protested but Nikitin's hand on his unhurt shoulder kept him in compliance. Nikitin and two other guardians took Dimitri in the jeep with the floodlights. A handful of other guardians stayed behind.

Nikitin drove across the hard, cold ground, swerving around the copse of trees and over scrub grasses. "Interesting girl," he said over the noise of the jeep.

"A little crazy," one of the other guardians muttered.

"Maybe, but she had a point. Belikov, you are one of the best and most committed novices I've trained in over twenty years. But if you pull a stunt like that again I will have you pulled from the trials. There was no reason for you to cross the ward. Whether she wanted your protection or not, your place was with the Moroi. By crossing the ward, you put yourself in danger and left her unprotected."

"Yes, sir." He'd told Malina to go and she'd refused, but he should have gone with her. The wards would have held; he'd only been hurt because he'd let the Strigoi goad him into losing his temper and crossing the line. "Yes, sir."


	22. Chapter 22

_Vampire Academy = Richelle Mead's :-D_

* * *

Before he left the infirmary, Nikitin spoke to Dimitri once more. "You did good," he said, gripping Dimitri's unhurt shoulder and staring hard into his eyes. "You were only an inch away from making that kill yourself. But next time –" his statement took in Malina and Dimitri's isolation on the edge of campus, Malina's royal pedigree, and Dimitri's recklessness in attacking beyond the protection of the wards – "you _run."_

The infirmary doctor – an older Moroi woman - came in to see him after she'd treated Malina. Young feeders were kept on site specifically for the hospital, and Malina had been taken there and examined first. The doctor checked the IV that the nurse had placed almost as soon as Dimitri was admitted and briefly examined the rest of him. She was efficient but kind. She reset his dislocated shoulder with a few well-practiced maneuvers and gave him a moment to savor the relief. "Nothing broken, no internal injuries, and the Strigoi bite lacerations are closing nicely. I'm still keeping you overnight. The IV fluids should take care of the blood loss and help cushion the shock, but the Strigoi endorphins still mucking around in your system make me nervous." He protested but she held firm. "I expect you'll be climbing the walls by morning, but occasionally even the strongest dhampir crashes from shock. I'm not taking any chances."

She finished, promising to be back to check and discharge him in the morning. The nurse came to check the IV shortly thereafter, cleaned and dressed the Strigoi bite, and when the drip was completely empty, disconnected the lines and left Dimitri alone.

He shifted in the less-than-comfortable hospital bed, trying to find sleep in the unfamiliar space. He wasn't used to the near-total darkness. Every window in the infirmary was blackened, blocking all sunlight for maximum Moroi comfort. The windows in his dorm room had heavy curtains, but a soft haze of sunlight always leaked around the edges. The only illumination in his current space were the green numbers on the monitor that hung on the IV pole, showing his latest blood pressure.

He'd been allowed scrubs instead of a hospital gown, and he lay under rough sheets that smelled like hospital – overly disinfected and overly clean. The adrenaline rush was long gone and he was exhausted, numb. His whole body felt heavy. He couldn't sleep. He kept feeling the Strigoi's fangs cut into his neck, kept feeling the crunch of his stake through the Strigoi's ribs, and kept hearing the Strigoi laugh. The visuals were worse. He kept seeing the Strigoi watch him, gauging his reaction; Malina crying, angry, her hands covered with dirt; the Strigoi sucking his own wrist in a nauseating, pornographic display.

The soft padding of footsteps floated through the darkness and he was instantly alert. His heart pounded as he slid out of bed. He put one hand on the IV pole – his most available weapon. He didn't pick it up, needing to stay as quiet as possible for the element of surprise. The privacy curtain split apart slightly and he tensed further, his entire body wound tight.

Malina stepped just inside the curtain.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His heart still raced wildly, uncontrollably, even though it was clear that there was no actual danger. His body was simply on too high alert after the attack.

Malina took one step closer, and let the two halves of the curtains fall closed behind her. Even through the buzz of adrenaline some part of him was struck yet again by how beautiful she was. Her pale skin nearly glowed in the faint greenish light. Her hair was down and loose, and her curls spilled over her shoulders and down her back. She'd been given a standard-issue hospital gown that tied in back and covered her only to mid-thigh. Her green eyes met his but she didn't come closer.

"I'm still mad," she said finally.

He stayed still, heart rate slowing, wanting to protest but not yet able to speak.

"I'll probably yell at you more later." She hesitated. "I just came to see if you're really okay."

The rush from his hypervigilant over-reaction faded further, leaving him jittery and tired. He tried to be angry with her. Regardless of his own mistakes, she hadn't run, hampering his efforts to keep her safe. But she stepped closer and he could see in her eyes how truly worried she was. A new emotion – guilt – made him look away.

"I'm fine."

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. "Idiot," she whispered.

"I'd be more fine if you would have run," he countered. But with her safe in his arms, all he felt was relief. He peeled his fingers off the IV pole and held her closer, suddenly too aware of the thinness of the hospital gown and how easy it would be to pull the ties to open the back. He stroked her hair instead.

She pulled away, checking the bruising on his arms and shoulder and across his windpipe. She laid her hand lightly on his shoulder beside the thick gauze covering the bite. Even cleaned and covered the area was raw and painful. "More fine than this?"

He shrugged, ignoring the discomfort from the movement, and the distraction of having her so close. _They come first. "_I needed to keep you safe. It doesn't matter what happens to me."

She laughed bitterly. "Very noble. What do I have to say to get you to understand that _you_ being safe is just as important to me?"

He stayed silent, not understanding.

"_I want you safe._" The intensity in her eyes caught him; he couldn't look away. She touched his cheek. "Why is that so wrong?"

He realized, slowly, that there was more in her question than just her feelings for him.

"Why is _what_ wrong?' he asked.

"Nothing." She untangled herself and stepped back, unable to keep eye contact.

He flashed back to the attack again: Malina angry, crying, digging in the dirt, and his anger and terror that she wasn't safe. The Strigoi – both during the attack and in the aftermath - had filled his experience so badly he couldn't perceive anything else. He hadn't even questioned what Malina was doing.

_Now_ he remembered the burning, the heaviness in his legs – making it possible for him to function despite the Strigoi high. He shouldn't have been able to fight the Strigoi's endorphins: no one's willpower was that strong. "Your hands," he said. He grasped them, her skin was clean but dirt still caked under her fingernails. "What did you do?"

She pulled her hands back and wrapped her arms around herself, half in modesty, half self-protective, She stared down at her feet. He kept his eyes focused on her face, not letting his gaze wander to her bare legs, or to how little the thin fabric of the hospital gown actually covered.

"I'm not exactly sure. I didn't even know if it would help. But my grandmother taught me some things, some magics that are technically… forbidden."

Sometime in their history Moroi had used magic much more freely, even to fight, but for reasons Dimitri had never adequately understood, magic use had become heavily restricted. "What did she teach you?" he prodded.

"Not a lot, just some… old ways to use the magic. The earth specialization is about life, strength, growth… fertility…" she blushed and continued quickly, "and a timelessness that's different from Strigoi immortality. When the Strigoi appeared tonight I just thought it would help you and not him, so I had to try."

"You still should have run." His conviction pulled his eyes away from her eyes and the silky curls that cascaded over her shoulder.

"I had to try," she repeated firmly.

She hadn't known her magic would help but she'd stayed despite the danger, despite risking expulsion for unapproved magic use. And she'd saved his life when he was supposed to be saving hers. His internal world shifted, unbalancing him, leaving him physically disoriented. He had always been the protector, the rescuer. He'd always had to stand up for himself. He had no experience _being_ protected, no experience being the one who was saved. He didn't know how to fit this new experience into his life.

"Dimitri?"

His name didn't sound right. She usually called him 'Cowboy'. He tried to put his experience into words. "Whatever you did cleared the Strigoi endorphins enough for me to get away."

He couldn't find the right way to say more.

She touched his arm and offered gently, "You could say 'thank you'."

The words stuck in his throat. Uncertainty clouded her features. "I'm not sorry I did it but I'm sorry I scared you. I just couldn't run away. I hate being helpless.

He knew the horror of being helpless, and worse, of being forced to stand by, unable to help someone he cared about. He hadn't ever considered that a Moroi might feel the same.

She turned away and wrapped her arms around herself again. He took a step toward her but had to steady himself against the side of the bed. He hated the weakness, hated that the attack continued to affect him. He touched her shoulder.

"Thank you." He hadn't been reluctant to say the words, they just hadn't seemed like enough. He hesitated, unable to convey the magnitude of the world re-ordering her actions had caused for him. "No one has ever done anything like that for me. No one has ever been there to help me. Thank you."

He'd said more than he intended but he couldn't take it back, couldn't cover up this newest opening into his past. She turned and stepped back to him, a quiet, invisible connection drawing them together. Her voice dropped. "Then I'm both sorry and glad I was the first."

Their eyes held in the profound silence that followed her words. Malina was the first to look away. "Can I stay with you?" she asked. "Just to sleep," she added hastily. "I was feeling really strong and powerful and ready to take on anything. But right now I just don't want to sleep alone. "

Dimitri squeezed her hand, feeling the shift in their relationship, unsure of what it meant, but strangely unafraid. He felt safe in a way he'd never felt with anyone, not even Katya. Ordinarily he would have struggled for the right response, but for now the words came easily. "I'd like that. I don't want to be alone right now either."


	23. Chapter 23

_Vampire Academy and Dimitri are still all Richelle Mead's :-D_

* * *

Malina slipped out of his bed sometime during the night. Dimitri assumed that she went back to the feeders, and he was glad that she had recovered enough to visit them. He pretended to still be asleep when she crawled back in and snuggled close. She kissed him, her lips barely brushing over his. He shifted slightly, accepting the kiss but not yet returning it.

"I've dreamed of this," she murmured, and at first he wasn't sure if she realized he was no longer asleep, or if she even meant for him to hear. He felt happier than he'd felt in weeks – possibly years. She tickled him lightly and his façade broke.

"You dreamed of making out in the infirmary?" he teased.

She kissed down his cheek and moved lower, her lips wandering along the underside of his jaw. "Not in the infirmary." Her mouth was hot, and her fingers slipped just underneath the scrubs and brushed against his lower back. He pulled her closer, letting her feel how much she affected him.

"You're amazing," he murmured.

She took his hand and guided it under the short hospital gown, up and over the curve of her hip and to her waist. He splayed his hand over her stomach and traced the edge of her ribs with his fingers. She smiled against his lips. "You're just now figuring this out?"

He slid both hands around her, resting them over her spine. He kissed her more deeply, and without thinking, his hands followed her curves. She didn't stop him. Instead she brought one of his hands back under the gown, over her ribs, and guided his other hand lower.

They'd blown past her boundaries and he held himself back, waiting for her to stop them. Again, she didn't.

Her hands returned to his body, stroking his skin. Her slender fingers traced his stomach muscles and slowed only the slightest bit before sliding under his waistband and down his thighs. The sensation and surprise of her hot skin made him gasp against her cheek.

"Is this okay?" she whispered, moving her hands more deliberately, her lips brushing his ear.

He nodded automatically, his body aching from holding himself back. He moved cautiously, wanting to touch her in return but not knowing the boundaries of her new comfort zone. He pulled her closer, their bodies barely separated by the infirmary-issued clothing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, struggling to form thought, much less words.

"More than okay." Her mouth trailed down his neck, her hands almost entirely stealing away his sense.

He rolled them slightly and broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to look at her - only her. He'd slept with more Moroi girls than he cared to count. He hadn't used them or been used by them: they'd all been nice girls and he'd enjoyed their company, but their bodies had become almost interchangeable. He didn't want that with Malina. He wanted to see _her _hair spill across the pillow, see _her _eyes close in bliss.

She didn't give him the chance, pulling him back, kissing him more fiercely, digging her fingers into the sides of his face. He lost himself for a moment, returning the intensity. He didn't resist when she took over, pushing him back onto the narrow hospital bed. The whisper of rustling sheets and their shared ragged breathing echoed in the silence of the infirmary.

He pulled back again, trying to look in her eyes, but she straddled him and pinned him down and kept kissing him, knees pressed tightly into his sides. He couldn't think, lost in the sensation of her skin, her hands, stroking and grasping every available inch of him. She pulled off his shirt and he helped her, their hands and mouths barely pausing. He wanted more though, wanted to see her. He pulled back, trying again to look in her eyes. She pressed closer.

He tried to rise and sit up, sliding his hands higher under her hospital gown, fingers fumbling with the ties to the back. She pushed him back down to the mattress, both hands flat on his chest. He froze, afraid that he'd presumed too much, but, impatient, she freed the ties herself. She tossed the gown aside and began tugging at the waistband of his scrubs.

The sight of her above him, almost completely naked, was enough to wipe his higher brain functions for a few more moments. But as she leaned in to kiss him again, still struggling with his knotted drawstring, breath rasping and skin hot, it dawned on him, slowly, that she was different. He'd had more than hints that when she was ready to do away with her careful boundaries that she would be enthusiastic and uninhibited, but that wasn't the sense he had of her now.

Her nails dug into his skin, pulling at his waistband, not waiting for his response, swatting his hands away when he tried to help. She forced her mouth deeply into his, demanding and rough. She didn't bite him – no civilized Moroi would ever consider that without permission – but her fangs scraped against his teeth and bruised the soft tissues of his mouth. He opened his mouth to her, gently battling her exploring tongue, trying to match her intensity while doing what he could to soothe the frantic, needy, almost angry edge to her desire.

He _wanted_ her – after two weeks of carefully respecting her boundaries he was more than ready for more - but some irritating, confusing sense told him he shouldn't take her like this.

His budding resolve weakened when she succeeded in releasing the knot. Automatically, he lifted his body and she pushed the rough fabric down to his knees. He palmed her hips, wrapping his long fingers around her curves. He kept his last shred of control – barely - not yet sliding his hands beneath the last bit of fabric covering her. He pulled her tight against him and his own breath rasped in his ears.

With any other Moroi girl he wouldn't have hesitated – had never hesitated. But he couldn't have sex with her, not like this. He ripped his mouth away. "Stop."

She froze, her body still covering his, her mouth against his cheek. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't explain. He tried to rationalize his hesitation as simply part of his training. Being attacked created a heightened sense of connection, and an adrenaline-fueled need that could be mistaken for sexual attraction by both guarded and guardian. It was one of the main reasons that male-female (or other pairs with similar sexual preferences) guardian assignments were more carefully scrutinized. All novices were educated on the phenomenon in clinical terms and cautioned against acting on those feelings, taught it was their responsibility to remain professional under those circumstances. He couldn't ignore that Malina's discard of her boundaries coincided too exactly with their attack.

When his silence continued she nipped at his lip. He jumped slightly, startled, but she didn't draw blood. Her mouth moved lower, kissing down his chest. "Don't worry about it."

He almost didn't stop her, almost let her continue. He wasn't her guardian, she had made that clear. Even if her sudden willingness _was_ due to the emotional aftermath of the attack, he could still enjoy the benefits.

But he couldn't.

"No." He pulled her back up, carefully anchoring his hands on her hips and bringing her eye to eye. She turned her head.

Her voice was a whisper. "Don't you still want me?"

He did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He kissed her as gently and thoroughly as he knew how, burying his fingers in her hair, drawing her body close. She kissed him harder, her hands, her body pressing into his. He let her, but stayed in control, both of his own actions and their shared desires.

He could barely understand it himself. He _wanted_ her - this uninhibited girl who had backed him into a tree. He _wanted_ this girl who set her boundaries but had given fully and unselfishly within the realm of her comfort. He wanted this girl who noticed – and cared - when he'd slipped and shared some sliver of his past.

But he didn't want this frantic, needy girl who couldn't meet his eyes.

He broke the kiss. "I want you," he said, the evidence obvious between them. "But not –" he gestured vaguely.

She pushed her hands against his chest and pulled away in one swift movement, sitting back hard next to him on the thin mattress.


	24. Chapter 24

_Still playing in Richelle Mead's Vampire Academy playground :-_D

* * *

Malina's head bowed and her curls fell forward, shadowing her face. She laughed low, embarrassed. "Not here, right?"

He pulled his scrubs back up and retied the waistband, using the movement to re-order his thoughts. He scooted back to a more upright position and sat beside her, keeping his hands in his lap.

"Not here," he agreed.

She leaned against him and exhaled loudly. Dimitri concentrated on slowing his breathing and letting his heart rate return to normal, avoiding the all-to-vivid possibilities of her naked skin pressed against his. He felt her body rise and fall with each breath, slowing finally. After a few silent minutes she spoke, her voice unexpectedly, cheerfully disgruntled. "You have entirely too much self control." He didn't bother to explain that she was wrong – that his control was barely enough.

"I could do a quick lust spell," she mused. He could hear the smile in her voice. She trailed her hand down his body and laid her hand on his knee, tracing random patterns near the inside of his thigh. His body responded, but faint alarms rang in the back of his mind.

"A what?"

She cuddled closer. "A lust spell," she murmured thoughtfully in his ear.

"What do you mean?" He kept his voice level but his blood ran cold. She exhaled against his neck and he flinched away from her fangs. It was easy to forget how different they really were.

"A lust spell. I found it in my grandmother's books."

He forced a curious tone into his voice, and if she caught the undercurrent of growing anger she disregarded it. "How is it done?"

She was happy to explain. "Earth-users can weave a spell into something made of earth," she murmured. Her hands roamed higher. "A rock – or preferably, more powerfully, a gem. It wouldn't be that hard to do."

"Have you done it before?" he made himself chuckle.

"Of course," she smiled mischievously. "I didn't even get caught."

He dropped the question he dreaded, but was now sure of. "Did you do it to me?"

She stopped moving, stopped smiling, and in the silence her deep, slow, shaky breaths were deafening. When she finally spoke her voice was low, dangerous. "Who do you think I am?"

Horrible images, awful truths spun before his eyes. "You said you'd tried it."

She pulled away like he'd slapped her. She flounced off the bed, taking the sheets with her. She scowled. "_Anyone_ experiments with a new spell. Nothing happened, no one got hurt, and I would _never _do it to anyone without permission. "

She'd suggested the spell so easily, how could he be sure?

He cataloged the evidence, horror mounting, anger making him say much more than he should. "I never noticed you until you sat down with me at lunch," he started slowly, "And even though I wasn't interested in you, when you showed up at my door for the party I could barely tear my eyes away. We have nothing in common but we keep hanging out, and the only thing that really works with us is when I can touch you." His mind moved faster, making more connections. "I thought I was dizzy tonight because of the blood loss, the Strigoi endorphins. I thought I couldn't take my eyes off you because you're so beautiful. But just maybe it's from you increasing the magic. Maybe tonight wasn't us almost losing control because we were just attacked, maybe it's because you found the perfect opportunity to finish the spell."

Malina clenched the sheets tighter around her and swayed on her feet. A heavy tear rolled down her face but her voice was hard. "If all I wanted was your body it's not that hard. All anyone else seems to need to do is offer. I could have taken you that first night but if you remember: _I turned you down._ From what I hear," she bit off, "I'm probably the only girl who has."

Dimitri flushed. "No one has complained. And no one else has played mind games."

She stifled what sounded like a scream of frustration. "Being forward at first was all about getting your attention, all about being like the other girls you liked! But I told you I didn't want to be just another Moroi girl in your bed and I meant it. I liked _you, _Dimitri. I thought you liked me too. Otherwise I would never –"

She met his eyes, and a raw, vulnerable tremor slipped into her voice. "I've never been with anyone, Dimitri. I didn't say anything because I was afraid that would scare you away. I was ready tonight. When you stopped I just thought a spell might make it… easier… "

His disbelief must have been plain on his face, and it both angered and wounded her more.

"I can't believe I was so stupid. I thought you actually cared about me, that you might get over Katya – or Ivan, or whoever it is that's made you such a mess. I thought that you had _some_ idea of who I am." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I really thought we connected."

He faltered. He'd felt it - the stillness and peace in being with her, and the happiness of waking up to her kiss. He'd briefly trusted those feelings. His anger flared that he was still vulnerable to her spell. "Just part of the spell. You need some kind of connection for lust - even if it's a lie."

She spun away and picked up her discarded hospital gown. She pulled it on, still holding the sheets around herself, blocking her body from his view. "Do you want to know what a lust charm does?" she asked. Her voice was controlled again. Not angry - but, he noted in some part of his mind, not weak. "It doesn't create attraction, or connection. It doesn't make you dizzy, or even make you act like a caveman. If you're not already attracted to the other person it doesn't do anything. If you _are, _you can't stop. The world just goes away, for both of you. You might be able to take it slow, enjoy it, but _you will not stop, - _you don't _have _to stop - not unless you get rid of the charm."

"You could tell me anything, there's no way for me to check." he was less certain, though, and doubting her seemed to connect to a painful twisting feeling in his chest.

"Fine." she said. She turned around and stared him in the eye. Her cheeks were tearstained and flushed. "Believe what you want. But I'm telling you the truth - about everything. And for the record, _no_, I have never used a lust spell - or _any_ spell - on you. Thanks so much for asking."

She turned away again, wiping her eyes on a handful of crumpled sheets. She dropped them and walked to the edge of the curtains. She shook her head, slowly, dark curls swaying with the movement. "What just happened?" She asked quietly. She didn't turn around. "You don't trust anyone, do you, _Cowboy_?"

With his history, trust came slowly, if at all. Again, she'd guessed something that no one else had ever bothered to see.

He'd gotten it all wrong. He _was _attracted to her. Very much. He'd never bothered to notice because until just recently she'd never shown an interest, and he'd had no use for Moroi girls not already knocking down his door. They had more in common than he was prepared to admit; the only reason he'd been able to lie to himself was because he only accidentally shared anything with her. He'd listened to her, learned snippets of her history, but he'd almost intentionally not asked her anything about herself. She'd read his book, one of his favorite American Westerns. He hadn't even asked her if she liked it.

He tried to make her interest in him more sinister, but in truth she had given him every indication that she cared about him, not just as a bed partner or a potential guardian but as someone she wanted as her equal. She was wrong about his control, but she had an eerie understanding of him that went far beyond what anyone else had ever known. More primally, they had an electric physical connection that he'd tried too late to deny, and an emotional connection that was suddenly so deep it frightened him. He'd let his guard down, let her in too far, and now she was leaving.

She slipped through the curtains and was gone. The hollow, warm space next to him cooled quickly, and even the pillows Dimitri stuffed into the spot couldn't fill the absence of her body. He had a hard time getting back to sleep.

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_Thank you so much to my loyal reviewers and my new reviewers, and to the new handful of readers who've favorite-ed and story alert-ed this story! Do I dare ask for *more * reviews? :-D I'm having fun using echoes of VA to create Dimitri's past, and splitting Rose's personality into Malina and Katya, but I know this isn't a typical fanfic. I hope you're enjoying it! More plot coming up, and more relationship stuff, too :-D. _


	25. Chapter 25

_Vampire Academy is all Richelle Mead's!_

* * *

Catherine woke him.

"Get up."

He sat up, instantly alert, heart pounding too hard. Voices coming out of the blackness – even the blackness of his sleep – were not welcome.

She turned on the lights and tossed clothes on the bed. She turned away, opening cabinets and making other movements he couldn't follow. She spoke to him without turning around. "You'd better hurry. You'll be late for the assembly."

He leaned forward for his shirt automatically, but stopped mid-reach, heart still racing, head crowded with half-formed questions.

She glanced back. "Your clothes were too bloody. Those are from the discard closet. They're clean."

He struggled to keep up. Her actions were professional and almost kind, but her voice was harsh and she nearly shook with suppressed anger.

She glared at him expectantly and he moved to take off his scrubs top. Satisfied he was following directions, she turned away and returned to her movements in the cabinets. He changed quickly, self-consciously, glad that the clothes fit – at six foot six he was taller than some of his professors, even taller than some Moroi – and glad that the mock-turtleneck covered the Strigoi bite and bandaging. He watched Catherine carefully as he dressed, trying to understand her anger.

Catherine closed the cabinets, stopping just short of slamming them shut. "Your shoes are under the bed," she said without looking at him. "Doctor Scherpova is finishing rounds on the Moroi floor and will be down to discharge you soon. Go straight to the auditorium when she's done with you."

Dimitri chose his words carefully, afraid that he suspected the answer and cautious about triggering more of Catherine's anger. "Why is there an assembly on Saturday?"

She turned back to him. "You know why. But no one else does, and the professors and guardians want to keep it that way. I only know because someone forgot to tell me not to come into work this morning. I saw Malina first."

One of his questions was answered - Catherine was there because she was one of the student aides for the infirmary – but the sparse information she gave only made his other questions multiply. One important question rose to the top. He asked it before he could stop himself.

"Is she okay?"

Catherine paused, narrowing her eyes and assessing him coldly. "She's fine. But you need to leave her alone. She told me what happened. I'll give you credit for not screwing her when she was obviously vulnerable. She doesn't see it that way but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that's what happened. But then you accuse her of tricking you into liking her? That doesn't even make sense. It was cruel and unnecessary and she deserves so much better than that."

"I messed up," he admitted. He surprised himself by saying it out loud, but Catherine's assessment was painfully accurate.

"Then fix it."

"How?" he asked. She wouldn't have been his choice of advisor but he had no one else to talk to – and he was grudgingly impressed by her blunt honesty.

"If you don't know I don't think anything I say is going to help," she shrugged. "You've been treating her like crap, and not just last night. If you go anywhere near her again you need to do better. If you can't I really think you should leave her alone."

He was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the Moroi doctor. She entered and Catherine left the room without a word or backward glance. "How's our dhampir hero this morning?" she asked cheerfully. "Any dizziness, heart palpitations, pain?"

He stared after Catherine but shook his head in answer to the doctor's questions. She checked his bruises and the Strigoi bite, and ran him through a brief set of range of motion exercises to check his formerly dislocated shoulder. "Looks good," she pronounced. "Let me change those bandages and I'll get you out of here in time for the assembly."

"What assembly?" he risked asking.

She smiled and pulled down the tray Catherine had assembled out of his line of sight. "Shirt off," she said briskly, gesturing with one long-fingered hand. He complied and she draped a sheet over his uninjured shoulder and across his body. "Your activities last night have caused quite a stir," she said conversationally, removing the bandaging and cleaning the wound.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked. He would have been more cautious, but her manner invited his questions. He ignored the burn of disinfecting the bite as much as he could.

"Not exactly," she answered, "but the guardians would prefer you and Malina keep last night's events to yourselves." Dimitri knew without asking – from Catherine's comments and from over a decade of training - that the guardians' "prefer" was akin to an order.

"Luckily for them," she continued, "the Strigoi bit low on your carotid. Not luckily for you - he was apparently interested in inflicting the most pain - or possibly, delivering the most endorphins. The artery is quite deeply seated here," she touched around the wound, gently, "so he had to bite through a great deal of fascia and muscle. I'd expect a normal bite to heal in a day or so; this one may take quite a bit longer."

He absorbed the physiology lesson, trying not to think too hard about the damage the Strigoi had done. He followed the implications of her explanation. "They also want me to keep the bite covered and not draw any attention to it."

She smiled. "Smart boy. I'm not saying I agree with them, but in this arena they are in charge. And like I said, luckily for them, the placement of the bite makes it possible to cover without too much difficulty." She pointed to the high neck of the shirt Catherine had given him. He made a mental note to find more like it in his wardrobe.

She finished dressing the wound and gestured for him to put his shirt back on. "The guardians are busy at the assembly and elsewhere." Her voice took on a more formal cadence. "To be clear: you are not to talk to anyone about your encounter last night or reveal your injuries in any way until such time that the guardians allow it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good," she answered, immediately informal once again, "I should caution you, though, that the guardians cannot be everywhere at once, and more people than they expected are already aware of last night's circumstances."

"Ma'am?" he questioned, not sure that she was saying what she seemed to be saying.

She paused for a beat and looked away, busying herself with disposing the discarded bandaging and supplies. "Just be careful who you talk to."

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_Thanks so much for the new favorites and story alerts and especially for the reviews!_


	26. Chapter 26

_Vampire Academy and Dimitri are all Richelle Mead's!_

_I'm back! Sorry I broke my weekly posting streak! This chapter is longer than usual, I hope that's okay!_

* * *

Dimitri entered the already crowded auditorium from the side doors closest to the stage, the loud, cheerful chatter of the assembled students assaulting his senses after the quiet of the infirmary. Dr. Scherpova's parting words rang above the noise. _Just be careful who you talk to._ Who would he tell? And why? And why would a Moroi go out of her way to encourage his disloyalty? He'd had doubts about the Guardians' actions since the first Strigoi sighting, but even considering disregarding their orders went against everything he'd ever been taught. Of course in a way he _had_ gone against guardians once in his life, when he was thirteen, but that was different.

He scanned the seating, noting both dhampir and Moroi classmates milling about and talking, and noted more guardians in formal dress than he'd ever seen at one time. Most of his Moroi professors also appeared to be present, standing by as the guardians handled the minor crowd control. He couldn't begin to understand Catherine and Dr. Scherpova's cryptic comments, seemingly saying that the assembly was publically something else, but privately related to his and Malina's Strigoi attack.

He located Malina automatically, forgetting briefly that she wasn't likely to welcome his company. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot at the base of her neck and her clothes were clean but clearly not her own - he suspected she'd been given discarded clothing like his. He was used to seeing her in the jewel-tones that offset her dark hair and green eyes and hoped it was simply the neutrals in her current outfit that dulled her appearance, making her seem paler than normal and almost ill. She was standing with Catherine, barely moving and not engaging in conversation despite the other girl's obvious attempts. When she looked up, startled by a sharp noise from behind the stage curtains, he could see that her eyes were puffy and red.

He disregarded Catherine's advice and closed the distance between them. "Malina."

She didn't hesitate. "Go away Dimitri."

He winced but kept trying. "I'm sorry, I –"

"Yeah. Me, too." She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself, then with effort turned back and met his eyes. "It wasn't a lie for _me_. When you figure out what it was for you, you just let me know."

He scrambled for the right words but Zeklos and Katya came down the aisle behind her. His head emptied of everything but the new horror of them together.

They walked slowly, Zeklos's arm around Katya's shoulders, her arm tucked around his waist. He looked down at her with a mixture of adoration and joy, his expression impossibly tender and knowing, making it entirely too obvious what had very recently transpired between them. His emotions were so unguarded that even if Dimitri hadn't been appalled at what he'd let happen he would have had to look away.

Malina followed his gaze. She stifled a short, mirthless laugh. "Well at least someone had a good night."

Dimitri's gut twisted, anger and fear and grief warring inside him.

"What is it?" she took a step closer to him, voice hard. "Do you think he's controlling her with some awful spell, too?"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. "You wouldn't understand," he snapped.

"No. I guess I wouldn't." She raised her chin and turned away, dismissing him. He took a reflexive step toward her, already regretting his slip, but she held herself straighter and refused to meet his eyes. Zeklos and Katya settled into seats across the aisle, oblivious to anyone else around them. Torn between stepping between them and apologizing again to Malina, Sasha's companionable slap on his injured shoulder caught him completely off guard.

"Have _you_ heard what this is about?' he asked, his usual upbeat nature matching the mood of the room. "Rumor has it it's someone important."

"I haven't heard any names," Dimitri deflected, recovering quickly and hiding his surprise and confusion at this new piece of the puzzle. He tried to catch Malina's eye. Had Catherine shared more with her about the assembly and how it related to them? She gave no indication that she'd heard Sasha but she couldn't have missed him. His eyes slid to Catherine next, and though her level gaze met his, her expression gave no clue to the information she might hold.

"Also," Sasha moved closer, speaking low, "I heard another rumor – they're saying there was another Strigoi on campus, an attack this time."

"Really?" Dimitri answered noncommittally. His injured shoulder spasmed. He glanced over to Malina again but she turned completely away, making a show of talking to Catherine. "An attack?"

"Yes, but I swear every Guardian has been in and out all morning – someone or something _big _is behind that curtain – but no one seems injured. And if we lost a Guardian," Sasha looked briefly uncomfortable at acknowledging the reality of the risks they faced, "you'd think they'd be upset, right?"

"Of course." He answered automatically, but wondered. How did Guardians react to losing one of their own? Moroi came first. As long as Moroi were safe, would a dhampir death matter?

More purposeful movement among the guardians caught both their attention, signaling that the assembly was about to begin. "Come on," Sasha motioned, indicating a group of dhampir seniors, "we're over here." Dimitri tried for Malina's attention once more as they moved, but she continued to ignore him, closing herself off. He made himself look away. He wanted to fight, to argue, to provoke her temper again - anything to re-open the connection he hadn't realized had become a constant between them – but he controlled the impulse with effort. Catherine had been right: he needed to behave better to win her back.

He joined Sasha and the other novices, finding seats while the rest of his classmates settled faster than he would have expected. Sasha hadn't been alone in his access to rumors or in his excitement about what – or who – rated a surprise Saturday morning assembly.

The auditorium served multiple purposes, but today was in lecture mode, the heavy blue curtains hanging closed, providing a vivid backdrop for a single wooden podium. Even before the students had completely quieted Guardian Ershova emerged from the left side of the stage. Her formal guardian dress – white, button-down shirt and crisp black slacks, contrasting with the dark workout clothing the guardians on campus usually wore – matched that of her colleagues now lining the auditorium walls two rows deep.

Dimitri had only a moment to grasp that the purpose of the assembly was more complicated than simple damage control or rumor management, and much bigger than he'd even begun to speculate. He glanced over at Malina again. She'd found seating where he'd left her, with Catherine and her other Moroi friends, now two sections to his left. He tried yet again to catch her eye. He'd spent most of his life independent and alone, but now he found himself acutely missing Malina's support.

"Good morning," Guardian Ershova said. She projected her voice easily without bothering with the microphone on the podium standing next to her. "We have a special guest joining us on campus this week, and to put any rumors –" she glared at a few select students in the audience without pausing – "to rest before they start we decided to introduce you to him this morning." She paused dramatically, then continued in an almost forced-casual tone. "Please welcome Guardian to the family of the Badica Prince and former Head of the Guardian Council, Guardian Arthur Schoenberg."

Stunned silence turned to slowly building applause as the legendary guardian took Ershova's place on the stage. Sasha leaned forward. "I thought he was in America. What the heck is he doing here?" Dimitri couldn't answer, too shocked to respond. Connecting his and Malina's attack to Arthur Schoenberg's presence was laughable – or possibly terrifying.

"Hello." Guardian Schoenberg's low, American-accented English barely carried to Dimitri and Sasha, sitting in the first half of the auditorium from the stage. He smiled, a relaxed flash that, despite the alternating humorous and horrific possibilities rushing through Dimitri's mind, inexplicably began to put him at ease. Guardian Schoenberg moved to the podium, the microphone amplifying his voice. "Thank you. I'm glad to be here. I'm not sure where to begin, I haven't prepared a speech."

He smiled again and rested his large hands on either side of the podium. His white sleeves buttoned at the wrist as well as the neck and collar like the rest of the guardians in attendance. His black trousers hung pressed and straight. But while on the others the white-and-black was clearly a uniform, on his bulky frame the clothes hung strangely natural, as comfortably as a warmup suit. Dimitri found him instantly relaxing and likable, but couldn't understand how the man commanded so much respect while conveying such an air of casualness. He couldn't imagine this large, slow-moving man dispatching Strigoi with the lethality always attributed to him. Only the fluidity of his movements, themselves at odds with his lumbering appearance, hinted that perhaps Dimitri was missing something in his assessment.

"I guess I'll get right to why I'm here," he said. Dimitri's heartrate and breathing increased, but Schoenberg kept the same casualness in his voice as in his posture. Distracting himself from unpleasant possibilities, Dimitri tried to place his accent – not Western like his favorite novels, not Southern - more like an American newscaster, smooth and only slightly lilting. Dimitri detected only a shadow of the slavic consanants in his pronunciation that remind him that, despite his casual fluency and choice of American English instead of Russian to address the assembly, Guardian Schoenberg was not American nor a native English-speaker.

"I don't like the Strigoi reports I've heard," he continued. "But I believe you're safe here, please don't let my presence make you think otherwise. I'm not here in any official capacity. We were traveling nearby, and when we heard about the regional Strigoi activity and the curriculum changes your faculty has implemented, I was deeply interested." Dimitri's caught the slight stress on _regional,_ and wondered if he should be relieved or more worried that Schoenberg was glossing over the earlier campus Strigoi sighting and not addressing his and Malina's experience.

"Prince Badica allowed me a short sabbatical," Schoenberg continued, "and we made arrangements for him and his family to continue with the rest of my staff to Moscow while his nephew and I came here. Some of you may be aware that during my tenure on the Guardian council I also held a faculty position at the local academy where I taught and mentored students, and while I don't miss council politics, I do miss interacting with our next generation of guardians. I am looking forward to meeting all of you, and if your faculty agrees, I will be teaching and mentoring for the short time I am here." Sasha nudged Dimitri – as the top senior novice he was virtually guaranteed to be chosen for closer interaction. He accepted Sasha's assumption cautiously. Schoenberg's mentorship and recommendation could change the course of his career, but his actions last night could have stained his future permanently.

A low rumble caught Dimitri just at the edge of his dhampir hearing and the floor vibrated under his feet. He pulled his attention away from the stage and from the images of possible futures spiraling before him. Other than a few other students appearing confused or curious, nothing else seemed out of place. He would have assumed that the disruption was innocuous except that the guardian population began thinning. Almost imperceptibly at first, then more obvious only if watching closely, the guardians lining the wall began to simply melt away, exiting without even seeming to open the doors. By the end of Schoenberg's speech only about half the guardians remained.

"Thank you again for giving up part of your Saturday to meet with me," Guardian Schoenberg finished, "I'm glad to be here, and as soon as your faculty and I decide where I can be most useful, I look forward to playing some small part in your education. And one of my favorite parts of teaching is that I have no doubt I will be learning from you as well."

Polite applause quickly turned thunderous as the implications of Schoenberg's speech percolated through the student body. Guardian Arthur Schoenberg, the man whose Strigoi kills filled their textbooks, whose techniques were part of the standard novice curriculum, whose career spanned from a Georgian childhood, to a transfer to America, up through the guardian ranks to guard Queen Zeklos herself, through the queen's retirement when he was offered the Head of the new Queen Ivashkov's guard, and then respectfully _declined_ that position in order to accept the position of Head of the Guardian Council - and _finally_, to his retirement to a "quieter" life guarding the Badica prince... was in residence at their academy, offering to share his time and knowledge and expertise.

Nikitin joined Guardian Schoenberg on the stage, applauding as well as he crossed the stage to meet him. He stepped up to the microphone. "Thank you for your generosity, Guardian Schoenberg, we _all_ look forward to learning from you. I already have a list of names that meet your criteria for your first student introductions, and I'd like to read them now so those students can plan to join you first thing Monday morning. After I read the names I do have one more short guardian issue that we would appreciate your input on, and then we will all leave you and Adam Badica to settle into the guest apartments and acclimate to our campus. Everyone else," his short, clipped speech pattern becoming even more pronounced, "you will help Guardian Schoenberg with anything he needs, and you will otherwise _leave him alone."_

Guardian Schoenberg chuckled, leaning into the microphone, "I really don't mind."

Nikitin inclined his head in acknowledgment but his tone remained the same. "Again, Guardian Schoenberg is generous, but you will all have your chance to meet with him in your classes – yes, even Moroi classes – so you _will wait patiently_. We are very lucky that he is joining us and I want you on your best behavior. If you are not, I will know.

"Now, the names." Nikitin rattled off a short list of names in his sharp staccato – five of the female novices, including Katya, and five of the males, including Sasha. Dimitri's name was not on the list. Nikitin made a final, short chopping motion with his hand. "Dismissed."

* * *

_Thank you again for the new favorites and *especially * for the reviews!_


	27. Chapter 27

_Another long chapter, I hope that's okay!_

_Vampire Academy and Dimitri will always belong to Richelle Mead :-D_

* * *

Dimitri walked out of the auditorium shakily, Sasha joining him. Other classmates pushed and rushed past them, happy to be free for the weekend, chattering excitedly about Schoenberg and the first chosen novices. A few complained good-naturedly about their 3-hour Strigoi monitoring blocks landing during their off time, but generally the mood was cheerful and energetic.

"He said he's going to meet with everyone," Sasha said uncertainly, confused and almost nervous, for once not as upbeat as his surroundings. One of the Badica twins shoved him, probably accidentally, into Dimitri in his rush down the stairs. Dimitri kept his balance, barely noticing. "I'm sure you'll be in the next group."

"Of course," Dimitri managed, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him how little he believed it. Sasha, Katya, and the other novices Nikitin had called were some of the best in his class, but he was the acknowledged top. His name should have been first on the list. That it wasn't told him exactly how his actions with the Strigoi were being viewed by his guardian instructors. He had very likely derailed his entire career.

Warm, shared laughter ahead of him twisted his stomach further. Zeklos and Katya's happiness was unmistakable. He glanced at them then forced his eyes away, scanning the darkness out of habit - and out of a desperate need to see anything, hear anything, feel anything other than the painful reality that Katya and Zeklos had slept together. He'd been with enough girls to know that sex didn't have to mean a lifelong connection, but he couldn't shake the fear that Zeklos now had just one more future way of worming himself back into Katya's life. On most levels he knew that their intimacy had been inevitable - he'd just denied to himself that it could happen so _soon_. He'd counted on the stricter guardian rules enforcement to keep them, if not apart, then at least more cautious and less comfortable with any hoped-for privacy.

Thoughts of the guardians confused him briefly, giving him another much-needed distraction, at first unable to process the reason for his unease. Sasha continued descending the steps beside him, seemingly wanting to ask questions or offer support. Instead he remained silent, possibly because he simply did not know what else to say.

The auditorium sat back from the four main campus buildings on a slight hill, placed on a wide corner of the lopsided square formed by the main buildings, giving Dimitri a good vantagepoint of most of the central campus. A wide apron of two dozen steps stretched down to the sidewalk. Globe gaslights lined both sides of the steep stairway at regular intervals, stretching from the massive, triple sets of auditorium doors, down to join the lanterns lining the concrete paths. Most of the students moved ahead of him and Sasha, dispersing in multiple directions, some entering dorms, the library, or other nearby buildings. A few headed farther, beyond the buildings but still within the lights of the main campus, taking advantage, despite the cold, of the calm overcast night to simply not be indoors. The majority, however, stayed close, walking along the sidewalks and through the large, snow-dusted, open expanse set in the middle of the main buildings.

Dimitri especially noted Malina and Catherine. He hadn't meant to focus on them but he couldn't help himself: he wanted, very badly, to simply see her face. She and Catherine had exited the auditorium in one of the first groups and had reached the far side of the main expanse. Malina appeared to be heading toward her dorm but Catherine seemed to have other ideas. He shelved his concerns for her, hoping he could find some way later to talk to her.

Tracking his fellow classmates, Dimitri realized what had bothered him about the guardians, a frighteningly simple answer: none were present. The wards provided the most essential protection from Strigoi, but no guardian would ever depend on Moroi magic more than their own eyes and ears. Guardians always shadowed the students: standing silent in the back of classes, patrolling around buildings, mingling among them on the outdoor walkways. They were omnipresent but unobtrusive, so much so that their absence registered like the absence of a class bell. Dimitri scanned the scene again, wondering if he'd somehow missed a new formation or patrol pattern, but the lack of guardians remained glaring.

Dimitri turned, hoping to find Nikitin still in the auditorium, wondering suddenly if he would get answers. He'd assumed that Nikitin would explain the guardians' actions if he asked, but the guardians had asked him to stay silent regarding his own encounter with the Striogi. It was disturbingly possible that his was not the first secret they had kept. His eyes swept the stairs once more as he turned, still seeking the guardians, but once again his attention was derailed by Zeklos and Katya.

They continued down the stairs below him, stopping just a few steps from the bottom, Zeklos taking an extra step down to minimize their height differential. While Dimitri watched, once again unable to look away, Zeklos stared into her eyes, then leaned over and kissed Katya's cheek. He lingered there, gathering her in his arms, and his mouth trailed down her jaw to the pulse in her neck. He held her tighter and smiled, his fangs illuminated by the gaslights. Dimitri was between them without a conscious thought.

He pulled Katya behind him to safety and swung, catching Zeklos in a clean hit across the jaw that should have knocked Zelklos flat. Instead, in the next instant Dimitri found himself on his back in the snow, half on the sidewalk, half on the ground, fighting to breathe. Zeklos had caught his arm on the tail end of the punch and pulled him off-balance, taking him down the last handful of stairs and tackling him to the ground.

"Dammit, Belikov!" Zeklos swore, hands pinning his shoulders, face inches from his own. "What is your problem?"

Dimitri struggled, still unable to breathe or speak, barely able to move, wind painfully knocked out of him from the impact and from his lungs being further compressed by Zeklos's weight. Humiliation and anger competed beyond the simple battle to breathe. He knew better than to attack without a solid base but his control had splintered. He'd swung without thinking, and Zeklos had somehow – through his mistake and Zeklos's insane luck – been able to take his momentum and redirect it to his own advantage. He hadn't made a mistake so foolish since his first hand-to-hand class in elementary school; Zeklos shouldn't have been able to touch him, much less incapacitate him. He twisted his legs, trying to flip Zeklos off him, but Zeklos's wiry bulk planted solidly on his torso.

"Do we need to fight this out?" Eye to eye, Zeklos's frustration was palpable. "Is that the only thing you understand?"

"Once Ivan gets done kicking your ass it's my turn," Katya caught up with them, furious and shaking. "I officially don't care what's wrong with you anymore. I've tried to be your friend and all you've done is throw that in my face. I'm done with you."

Dimitri felt like he'd been punched in a different way. Even though their romantic and physical connection was long over, Katya had always been his friend. She'd never threatened, even in teasing, that she'd prefer to not be part of his life. Her safety was more important, though. If she hated him, so be it.

He finally sucked in enough breath for seven words, coming out in a gravely whisper. "Keep your filthy Moroi mouth off her."

Katya bent down, looming over him. "Is that was this is about – _this_ time?" she hissed. "I am not a -" she bit back the word, unwilling to say it out loud, even in her anger. "I am not like your mother."

Something that looked like understanding flickered across Zeklos's face, and, in a white-hot flash, Dimitri headbutted him and got his left arm free. He wouldn't allow Zeklos to use his mother's weakness against him. He normally fought right dominant but both the Strigoi bite and dislocation had been his right shoulder. His left side was weaker but more than strong enough to hit Zeklos alongside his head.

Zeklos reeled, losing his grip, and Dimitri took the opening. He rolled, flipping them, and once he had Zeklos down he started punching. He landed only a half dozen hits before Sasha and two other novices dragged him away.

Unrestrained, Zeklos lept to his feet much faster than Dimitri expected and charged him. He smashed into him full-bodied, going straight for his gut, hitting him with rapid-fire, boxer-style punches. Already winded from the initial impact with the ground, these new blows – coupled with Sasha holding him back on one side and the two other novices restraining him on the other – doubled him over, frantic and gasping, flashing back to his father's favorite, bruise-less torture. He tore his arms away from Sasha and the other novices and punched back, his blows landing with less weight than normal but enough to draw satisfying grunts of pain.

More hands grabbed at him, at least a dozen novices this time, hands on his shoulders, arms, around his torso, bodies coming between him and Zeklos, pushing him back. He tore through them again and - arm fully extended - connected with Zeklos's jaw. Rather than falling back, Zeklos rushed him and slammed his knuckles into his face. The crunch of his nose breaking and the blood gushing from his face slowed him only slightly, but it was enough for his classmates to finally wrap themselves around him and block him from Zeklos. A hand thrust a towel into his clenched fist and guided it to his face.

"Let me through."

Malina's order cut through the novices surrounding him. They parted just enough to let her in, hands and bodies still holding him in place.

"What now, Cowboy?" she said, sounding annoyed and irritable, trying to catch her breath. To get to him so quickly she must have run all the way across the quad. "What were you thinking?"

He still couldn't speak, but his lungs finally inflated just enough and he took gulping breaths around the towel, still filling with blood. She stepped closer and his friends let her, sensing him relaxing in her presence.

"Let me see," she said quietly, reaching for the towel. He shook his head, still breathing deep.

"Anyone care to tell me what all the excitement is about?" Guardian Schoenberg's easy, conversational tone belied the seriousness behind his question. He approached Dimitri's group at a stroll, still wearing only his white-and-black guardian garb. Despite the brisk Siberian day – not as cold as some February days but definitely below freezing – he wore no coat.

Malina's stance, in front of Dimitri and between him and Guardian Schoenberg, coincidentally blocked him from Schoenberg's line of sight. Her green eyes widened as she recognized his voice. She knew as well as he the penalty for fighting outside of class. He was about to be expelled.

She turned around, still in front of him. Once again he had the bizarre sense that she wanted to protect him, but his actions had put him beyond help. He'd lost control, fully and completely, and nothing could save him now. His classmates' grip on him had gone slack at Schoenberg's casual greeting but he stayed in place just seconds longer, taking more gulping breaths, trying to catch enough air to speak.

Finally unwilling to hide any longer, he stepped up beside Malina. Schoenberg identified him as the source of the disturbance quite easily, but his initial response was simply two raised eyebrows. "You're a mess," he said. He came closer and Dimitri's friends parted to let him through. "Let me see," he said, holding his hand out for the towel.

He'd declined Malina's request but Dimitri couldn't disobey a guardian order. Hoping that the bleeding had stopped, he pulled the towel away and met Schoenberg's eyes. He kept breathing through his mouth, trying not to hyperventilate, trying futilely to stop his heart from racing. The blood had stopped gushing but still dripped slowly, metallic and nauseating on his lips.

Schoenberg studied his face, eyes flicking only once to Malina, pressing close to him. "Looks broken," he said finally. "Care to tell me what happened?"

Schoenberg continued speaking English, so out of respect Dimitri answered in the same language. His voice was rough but audible. "I was fighting, sir."

"Really." Schoenberg's response wasn't a question, but he seemed to realize that he was missing someone. He looked around and located Zeklos, staggering slightly to his feet. He had been resting on the steps, sitting beside Katya with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, but now he stood and met Schoenberg's gaze without flinching. He came down the last steps and stopped just meters away, also breathing deep.

"Hello, sir," Zeklos said. His flawless English held a hint of an American accent. He cradled his right hand carefully against his chest, his jaw puffy and already discoloring with bruises. He had moved hunched over slightly in pain, but now with effort straightened to his full height.

"Hello," Schoenberg answered politely, but his eyes flashed in anger as he turned back to Dimitri. He'd clearly expected to find another dhampir on the other end of the fight. Attacking a Moroi was inexcusable, and even this easy-going man's temper flared when he realized his new student had injured a Moroi.

"It was my fault, sir," Zeklos called out before Schoenberg could descend on Dimitri.

"How exactly do you figure that?" Schoenberg's jaw clenched.

"It's my fault," Zeklos repeated. He shrugged off Katya's restraining hand on his arm. "I said his mother was a blood whore."

The novices surrounding Dimitri took in a collective breath and even Schoenberg paused. His anger didn't fade, but redirected slightly. Guardians technically had no jurisdiction over Moroi students, but the insult was horrific enough that even Schoenberg reacted.

"What?" he asked, turning back.

"You heard me. Sir." Zeklos added. "I called his mother a blood whore."

Schoenberg's voice tightened, though his words stayed casual. "Care to tell me why you'd say something like that?"

"It's not relevant," Zeklos answered swiftly. "I said it, I provoked him. If he's punished I should be as well."

"You realize the punishment for fighting is expulsion?"

Zeklos paused. "Yes, sir. And I suppose the St. Petersburg academy would take me back. But Novice Belikov would have a harder time. He's the top novice here at St. Basil's, sir. Expelling him would result in the loss of an excellent potential guardian. Surely you could make an exception. This was an interpersonal conflict between friends, not an attack."

"Nice speech," Schoenberg commented drily. "Tell me, do you usually insult your friends and break their noses?"

Straight-faced, Zeklos answered, "Only my best friends."

Schoenberg looked at him, trying to determine if he was serious or joking. He stroked his long sideburns, shaking his head. "What is your name?" he asked, more curious than censoring.

"Ivan Zeklos, sir."

"Zeklos. Which line are you?"

"The Romanian line."

Schoenberg raised both eyebrows. "The founding line?"

Zeklos shrugged, looking around at the growing crowd of both novices and Moroi, ducking his head slightly. "I don't advertise it."

Schoenberg narrowed his eyes, assessing him through his reactions. "I guarded your grandmother years ago."

"I know, sir."

"She was a great queen."

"So they tell me, sir. She retired when I was little. To me she's just Grandmother." Zeklos held Schoenberg's gaze but shifted uncomfortably, seeming almost embarrassed.

Schoenberg looked like he wanted to ask more questions but stopped himself. "Maybe someday I can tell you some stories about your grandmother," he said instead. "I haven't been able to visit her in the last few years. When you see her, please give her my best."

"Of course, sir."

Schoenberg paused, and redirected himself. "So, Ivan Zeklos, you and Novice –"

"Belikov. Dimitri Belikov."

"- Novice Dimitri Belikov are very good friends who have some unnamed conflict that could only be solved by insults and beating the crap out of one another."

Zeklos didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir."

Schoenberg turned to Dimitri. "Is that your story, too?"

Dimitri sucked in a breath, caught off guard by Schoenberg's sudden attention. He'd watched their exchange with fascination, almost forgetting why the questioning was taking place. For a moment, he'd believed – hoped – that Schoenberg had forgotten he was there. Now faced with Schoenberg's question, he couldn't hesitate. He couldn't begin to fathom Zeklos's reasons, but Zeklos's story presented his only chance, however slight, at not being expelled. "Yes, sir." He lied.

Schoenberg addressed him again. "You realize you could have killed him."

Dimitri started to nod but Zeklos interrupted, calling attention back to himself. "I'm not helpless. My guardians taught me some self-defense, some hand-to-hand, too. And Dimitri wouldn't kill me." Dimitri blinked, startled somehow to hear Zeklos use his first name. "The fact that I got in any hits on him at all should prove that he was doing everything he could not to use his advantages."

"Your face tells a different story," Schoenberg noted, voice dry once again.

"I didn't say he didn't land a few hits," Zeklos corrected, then added, carefully, "Sir. I just meant that he showed great restraint despite our conflict."

Schoenberg blew out a breath and turned back to Dimitri, eyes flicking again to Malina. "The rules against fighting are in place to keep conflict from spilling _out_ of the practice rooms. Interpersonal problems between novices can usually be handled under the pretense of supervised sparring, but I can see that we don't really have a system in place to handle conflict between novice and Moroi students. Of course you could always _communicate_ your differences…" he glared at Dimitri, then Zeklos, "but I _vaguely_ remember being eighteen and having some issues that were best resolved with a few well-placed punches."

"So you'll help us? Sir." Zeklos asked, sounding – to Dimitri's ears – surprisingly hopeful.

Schoenberg looked again at Dimitri, then Zeklos. "Technically I don't have authority here, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir," Dimitri managed.

"Thank you," Zeklos echoed quietly. Then he added, suddenly, "Sir?"

"Pushing your luck, Mr. Zeklos?"

"I hope not, sir, I was just realizing that you're the only guardian in the vicinity…" His voice trailed off.

Dimitri closed his eyes, hoping Zeklos wasn't suggesting that Schoenberg refrain from reporting them. He'd started to believe, yet again, that Zeklos might be less evil than his father, but suggesting a guardian cover up a rule infraction, especially one as serious as a physical altercation screamed – at the very least – of the kind of privilege Zeklos had growing up with as the grandson of a queen.

Schoenberg raised both eyebrows. His words eerily echoed Dimtri's thoughts. "I see you take after your father."

"What?" Zeklos answered, startled. He took a moment, processing the old guardian's words. "NO," he said emphatically. "I wasn't suggesting that you stop from reporting our fight. I meant it when I said my punishment should match Novice Belikov's." He took a deep breath and his voice took on a carefully indifferent tone. "I was just curious where all the guardians were."

Dimitri wondered if Schoenberg would answer, if he believed Zeklos's dissembling. "You are still being protected," he said, finally. "Never doubt that."

"I believe you, sir." Zeklos said, but his answer held a sense of incompletion, of waiting for more.

Schoenberg looked him in the eye and seemed to make a decision. "Your guardians and faculty are still in the auditorium," Schoenberg said, rubbing his sideburns with his large hand. "They asked my opinion, I told them. Then I left. They can argue and fight among themselves all they want, that's not why I'm here."

He sounded tired and disgusted and looked away, grumbling further. "I retired two years ago from the Guardian Council," he continued, "and I refuse to be in charge again. I'm tired of politics. I'm here to help, but I'm remembering all over again why guarding the prince is like a vacation."

The novices stood unmoving, almost not breathing, shocked at the realization that this living legend was sharing his less-than-political opinions with them – and stunned that there was a person behind the persona.

Schoenberg shook his head, seemingly startled by his own introspection and how much he'd shared. Recovering, he redirected his attention.

"In the meantime, Novice Belikov, please go to the infirmary and have your face looked at. Mr. Zeklos, you, too. Anyone care to accompany my new young friends?"

Malina stepped up, placing herself in front of Dimitri once again. "I'll go."

Schoenberg turned his full attention on her and she flinched under his stare. His voice took on a surprisingly hard edge. "And you are?"

"Malina Ivashkov," she answered meekly, "Sir."

"Ivashkov?" He shook his head again as if to clear it and briefly closed his eyes. "Never mind, I'll deal with the genealogy later. You think you can get your boyfriend to the infirmary?"

Malina didn't correct his assumption. "Yes, sir."

"Do we have a friend for Mr. Zeklos?" he raised his voice, looking around.

Katya snorted irreverently, linking her arm through Ivan's. "Anyone else who wants to is going to have to go through me."

Schoenberg raised both eyebrows, looking between Malina and Dimitri, and Katya and Zeklos. "It looks like you boys will be well taken care of. I'll go back to the guardian meeting and see if I can get this settled quickly. No promises. Belikov, be ready to pack."

Dimitri couldn't allow himself hope and almost welcomed Schoenberg's bluntness. "Yes, sir."

* * *

_Just some ramblings about Schoenberg, because I continue to be the Queen of Overthinking These Things :-D..._

_Richelle says just a few things about Arthur Schoenberg, and I tried to pull them together with my opinions of what his personality might be based on his actions. He's a legendary Strigoi slayer, Rose says his exploits were part of her curriculum, he used to be the Head of the Guardians Council, but in Frostbite was guarding a royal Badica family - but Rose didn't say anything about it being a prince or princess's family. He's also doing "us" - Dimitri and Rose - a favor by running Rose's test. Dimitri is on a first-name basis with him. A woman guardian who looked about 25 - about a year older than Dimitri - said Schoenberg was her mentor. Have I missed any other references to Schoenberg that I need to work in?_

_So - I made some assumptions that someone as legendary as Schoenberg would have definitely been promoted to guard a queen at some point in his career, because the Queen would naturally get the best guardians. But he was also the Head of the Guardian Council, and at some point mentored students. Then why would this amazing guardian end up in Montana, guarding an average royal family? I think he'd have to have retired first to guard a Prince or Princess, and something happened, either something he did or by his own choice, that led him to where he is in Frostbite. And Dimitri knows him well enough to call him by his first name and well enough that Schoenberg would be willing to do him and Rose a favor and run her guardian test, so where did they get to know each other that well? And where exactly did Schoenberg mentor students in his amazing career? I imagined that he'd have to have been teaching and mentoring concurrently with everything else. I suppose he could have started when he retired, but I liked the idea that he did it all along, possibly influencing Dimitri later on to work and mentor at Rose's academy. I also figured someone who assigned guardians (as part of the Guardian Council) and spent his life protecting high-level Moroi and moving in political circles would be preoccupied with lineage, so I worked that in as well. Anything else I'm missing?... _

_I had to make one small edit - Queen Zeklos retired '20 years ago' (p 496 LS) - but that's 20 years ago from Rose's time, so about 13-14 years prior for Dimitri during his senior year. So Queen Zeklos would have retired when Ivan and Dimitri were very young (not before Ivan was born, like I had initially). _

_As always, thank you so much for reading and especially for reviewing!_


	28. Chapter 28

_Whew! Sorry to disappear again these last few weeks! Back with a short bit this time, working on two more longer sections I hope to get up over the holidays! Thanks for sticking with me!_

_As always, Dimitri and VA belong to Richelle Mead :-D._

* * *

Dimitri held the towel against his face, still tasting blood, carefully applying pressure to stop the bleeding. The rough cloth scraped painfully against his skin; his nose, cheeks, and eyes already swelling. He swore Malina's grandmother's curse under his breath. He hadn't lost control so badly since he was thirteen - and even then he hadn't ended up with his own injuries.

Malina stayed on Dimitri's right, seemingly shielding him from Katya and Zeklos. "I don't even know where to start," Katya said sharply, humor gone, glaring fully at him once they turned the corner. "If you get kicked out you deserve it."

"It's okay," Zeklos said, trying to pull her closer, kissing the top of her head.

"It is _not_ okay," Katya fumed, pushing him away. "I still don't know what the hell is going on with Dimitri and apparently there's a whole hell of a lot more that _you_ haven't been telling me, too!"

Zeklos winced. "I wasn't hiding the family stuff, it's just complicated."

"And the fighting?" she retorted. "Since when do Moroi kids get taught by their guardians to fight? You need more practice you know," she added, "you probably broke your hand."

"It was worth it." Zeklos grinned, catching Dimitri off-guard. Still holding the bloody towel against his face he searched Zeklos's eyes for signs of cruelty or triumph - but found only humor, and found one side of his mouth tilting up slightly in return. Finally getting a few swings at Zeklos _had_ felt good - and Zeklos had apparently felt the same.

"And _you,__" _Katya spun on Dimitri, "you do realize Schoenberg should have booted you right there. And if you _ever_ even _hint_ that I could be -" she pinched her lips "- _giving__ blood._ Or that anyone I would care to be with would _take_ it... I promise you I will break more than your nose, I don't care what your issues are. And Ivan will _not _be there to save your ass, not even for a minute. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Dimitri couldn't answer her, couldn't meet the fury and hurt spilling out of her. "Thank you," he said instead to Zeklos, still locked with him eye to eye. His mind easily conjured any number of less-than-altruistic reasons Zeklos may have had for standing up for him, but if he hadn't, Katya was right: he would already be packing. He could still be expelled, but for the moment, he still had a small chance. And at the very least, Zeklos had bought him time with Malina. He reached for her, relief flooding through him when she let him take her hand.

"Thank me when we get to stay," Zeklos said carefully, cradling his injured fingers against his chest.

"You're not going anywhere," Katya snapped, still furious, still glaring at Dimitri. "I don't know about the St. Petersburg academy, but I don't think there's even a rule against Moroi fighting unless it's illegal elemental use. And considering this new -" she skewered Zeklos with her eyes "- information about your family, I'm guessing you'd have to do a hell of a lot more than than that before anyone even raised an eyebrow."

The full implications of Dimitri's actions slammed into him. Katya was right: no Moroi - especially not one of Zeklos's status - would ever be expelled, but Dimitri's fate was virtually guaranteed. And if he were no longer enrolled, Katya would be alone with Zeklos.

"If Dimitri is expelled, I'll leave too, whether it's 'official' or not." Zeklos said quickly, watching Dimitri's face. He glanced down at Katya and his expression tightened.

'What do you mean?" she asked.

"If Dimitri really is expelled I'll leave." Zeklos repeated.

"You can't be serious." Katya said, her fury dissipating. She took a step back, searching Zeklos's face. "You'd leave even if they didn't make you go?"

"I don't want to," Zeklos said, "I don't want to leave _you_." Dimitri flinched at the sincerity and pain in his voice. "But it's not right that he gets in trouble and I don't."

"But he attacked you!" Katya protested, confusion and fear eclipsing her anger.

"With reason. And I hit back."

"What reason? You didn't do anything, you didn't even say anything! You _lied _for him!" she paused for the briefest moment then exploded once again. " _Why __did__ you __lie?_"

"Can we not do this now?" Malina interrupted, facing off with Katya, confrontational this time, not protective. Her voice shook only a little; her overwhelming show was one of strength. "The guardians could come find us any minute. Dimitri screwed up and he's leaving, we're only waiting to see how soon. I'd like a little time with him before that happens."

"He's not leaving." Zeklos said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and looking directly into her eyes. "If he goes, I go too, but I really don't think that will happen. And if it does, I will find a way to get him back to you. I promise."

"That's a big promise." Malina answered, holding his gaze.

"I'll keep it." He paused, then dropped his hand. "In the meantime, we _will_ leave you alone. You deserve at least that much. I think you're a good influence on him."

"I don't know about that," she murmured, "but thanks."

"So we're leaving now," Zeklos said swiftly, sweeping Katya close again with his good arm and starting back toward the infirmary. She glared up at him but didn't protest, and after a moment slid her arm around his waist. He looked back, his parting words directed at Dimitri. "I'm not worried. We're not going anywhere."

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading!_


	29. Chapter 29

_I'm sorry I wasn't able to get this up in time for the holidays :-(, but I've been sneaking work on it as much as I could. I hope everyone had a wonderful time and best wishes for 2012!_

_Gentle warning to anyone with sensitivities to abuse issues, I tried not to get too graphic with Dimitri's history, but I know just about anything can be triggering. I've put most of the flashbacks in italics, but Dimitri also talks in present tense about what happened with his father. PM me if you'd just like a summary of this chapter._

_Dimitri and VA are all Richelle Mead's!_

* * *

Dimitri watched Zeklos and Katya's backs, their body language slowly changing from tension to teasing. When their forms retreated farther down the path and around another corner, Malina finally spoke.

"How's your nose?"

Dimitri moved cautiously, unsure about the see-saw of events and emotions that had brought them to this point. He pulled the towel away. "Better," he noted carefully. "Done bleeding."

"Good," she said.

She didn't move, and after a few moments, he interrupted the tension. "I still have to go to the infirmary. That's where they'll expect to find me."

Another long silence, then - "I need answers," Malina said abruptly.

He had no problem imagining her questions. He looked down, avoiding her eyes. "I should go -" but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Please," she said.

He deflated. Zeklos's words had been entirely too optimistic: in all likelihood, he _was_ leaving, and he'd realized too late that he wanted more with Malina. He would have preferred to keep a more careful hold on what he shared, but at this point, what harm could answers do? "Can we walk?" he bargained. He couldn't imagine sharing while standing still. He also couldn't imagine sharing while still residing in his own skin, but for her, he would try.

He couldn't wait for her answer and started walking, Malina easily catching up to him and matching his stride. He couldn't volunteer what she wanted so he stayed silent.

"What happened when you were thirteen?" she asked finally.

He let out the breath he'd been holding. It wasn't the question he was expecting but it would do. He fought the urge to walk faster. "When I was thirteen I almost killed my father."

"You must have had a good reason."

Her answer came without hesitation and her unconditional acceptance made him pause. "I broke his spine," he admitted. "and his legs. Most of his ribs. Busted up his face pretty bad, too."

He waited for her anger, her horror. It didn't come. "What happened?" she asked simply.

He closed his eyes, trying to block the flashback. "He'd just fed. On my mother." Almost anyone would suspect that the insult Zeklos claimed to have used had some basis in fact - it was the standard derogatory for a woman in a dhampir commune - but many of his classmates had been raised in similar circumstances and knew the truth was more complicated. His other classmates would have assumed that Zeklos's insult was horrific but less than accurate. Malina nodded slightly, not shocked or appalled, as if he was only confirming something she'd already guessed.

"He wanted -" he swallowed, his mind instinctively fighting against the images, pulling back to give only generalizations. "He treated her badly. For as long as I can remember. Very badly. He didn't care if I saw, just if I tried to interfere. He liked using his air specialization to stop me - he'd choke me, cut off my breath. He said he liked it because it left less bruises. He didn't seem to mind leaving bruises on my mother."

"So what happened this time?" Malina asked, very softly.

_The images crashed through. Laughter echoed. The diamond necklace sparkled on her neck, the line of white stones interrupting the bruises like a bright scar. Blood trickled from the punctures. Her eyes stared at nothing, glazed, and her mouth curved upward in a vapid smile._

"They had just - shared blood," Dimitri's voice dropped. He kept walking, Malina at his side, not seeing the snow-dusted sidewalk, the looming building to their right, or the gently sloping expanse to their left. Instead, the past saturated his senses. He could even smell his father's cologne, mixing unpleasantly with the warmer smells of baking and home. In the scene crowding his vision, his father moved closer to her on the couch - he hadn't even bothered to hide their perversion behind closed doors - and brushed his lips along her bruised neck. Her back arched, bringing her skin closer to his fangs. Dimitri - the younger version of himself - stood in the doorway, agonized. He hated his mother's weakness, her addiction, but he hated his father more.

"_Leave her alone," he said._

_His father didn't even turn. "We're just having a little fun." He sunk his fangs into her again and a small moan of pleasure escaped her lips. His hand disappeared under the hem of her dress. Dimitri glanced away, disgusted, angry, and worried, mentally tracking the other members of the household. Karolina was out with friends - she refused to stay in the house when their father was present. Sonya and Viktoria were in their room playing; Dimitri had been watching them. He had considered taking to take them to Yeva's, but during their father's last few visits she had refused to help. He shouldn't have left them - they didn't need to see any more of their father's abuse than they already had and he couldn't risk letting them become targets - but they were playing safely and quietly and his anger had drawn him downstairs._

_His father's guardians were outside, one circling the house as near guard, watching all points of entry, while the other patrolled the neighborhood as far guard. But even when they were close they never interfered with their Moroi's actions, perfecting the guardian seeing-without-seeing, standing back no matter what old or new abuses his father performed. Sometimes his father didn't even need to use his magic to keep Dimitri from his attempts to interfere. If the guardians were close by, they would stop him. _

_Guardians protected Moroi. They came first._

"He'd brought her jewelry, a new dress - he did that a lot -" Dimitri continued, grasping at the present despite the vividness of the flashback. Answering Malina's question was even harder than he expected. Allowing the memory to take hold was hard enough, but what details to share, which ones to leave out? How to explain the all-encompassing horror of his father's frequent abuse?

"She didn't care about the presents, and she always promised us - my sisters, me, our grandmother - that she didn't want to see him anymore. But every time he came she'd let him in. Then he'd get her to wear what he brought. He'd get mad and hurt her if she said no."

"Did he hurt her a lot?" Malina asked, still quiet.

Dimitri flinched at the other images her question triggered, a hundred different scenes flashing by like a deck of shuffled cards. "A lot," he agreed. "And I never knew what would make him do it."

"What made him do it this time?" she prompted again, gently.

_His father smiled, easygoing and relaxed, kissing her neck lovingly - kissing the bloody marks he'd just made - and ignored Dimitri. He brushed her hair away from her face. "You used to be so amazing," he murmured. "I remember you taking down Strigoi like it was nothing. Now look at you. You're weak. Addicted and weak. It's so sad. I bet I could take you now."_

_In an instant the kindness in his voice twisted, turning dark as the thought hit him. "I really think I could."_

_Even in her drugged stupor, his mother caught both his meaning and the change in his tone and tried to rouse herself. "We don't have to fight," she slurred._

"_Not a fight," he said, his voice turning completely cold. "Just a little test. If a Strigoi came in right now could you protect me? I don't think you could. I don't think you could even protect me from _me_." He pulled her to her feet and backhanded her lightly. "Come on. _Guard_ me."_

"He was taunting her," Dimitri said, once again pulling his thoughts back to the present. "He said that since she was an addict she was weak. She was," he added angrily, "but it was his fault. He _made_ her weak. And that day he made fun of her for it. And hit her."

_He backhanded her again, harder, and her head rocked back from the impact. Dimitri started forward automatically, and without even looking at him, his father cut off his breath. Sometimes Dimitri thought ahead enough and took a few deep breaths first - then his lungs were ready when his father retaliated. This time he'd moved too quickly, too impulsively, and he had no reserves. He stumbled, flailing, panicked, trying to pull in any sliver of oxygen but his airway was completely blocked. Terror mounting, he knew that he might have less than a minute before he passed out, and his father might not remember to release his hold once he lost consciousness. Dimitri had researched it once, at school. In less than four minutes he could be dead._

"_You're weak," his father sneered at his mother, hitting her again. "You're worthless."_

_Dimitri's momentum and fight for breath had brought him closer to his father than he had been in years - he usually stayed as far away from him as possible, or was kept away by magic or guardians. Now, even with lungs wrung empty and vision graying around the edges, he realized with a start that he was bigger than his father. Not as tall, but nearly, and much more muscular and solidly built. For as long as he could remember he'd harbored traitorous fantasies of physically stopping his father, but, notwithstanding the other barriers to attacking him, he was simply too small. He'd grown quite a bit in the past year. Big enough now to stop his father._

_He fought his body's need for air and forced himself upright, taking two steps closer to his parents. "I would protect you," his mother protested feebly. "I just won't hit _you_."_

_That statement might have saved her, this time at least, but then she added, "I could never hurt any Moroi." His father pulled back his arm one more time but Dimitri was ready._

"She wouldn't defend herself," Dimitri told Malina quietly. "She was a much better guardian than I will ever be. So I stopped him."

He waited again for Malina's horror that Zeklos wasn't the first Moroi he'd attacked. Instead she moved closer to him as they continued walking, slid her hand into his, and squeezed.

He held onto her and escaped the flashback, shutting away the sounds of breaking bones and screaming. He'd lost control once he'd started hitting him, done more damage than he'd intended. He couldn't bring himself to be sorry. "The guardians came back. Stopped me. But not before I'd almost killed him."

"But he recovered?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

"He did."

"And what you did stopped him, for good," she stated.

"It did." He didn't try to explain that it hadn't been quite so straightforward or easy, but in the end she was right: his father no longer intruded on his family's life.

"But it still affects you," Malina said quietly.

He wanted to deny it, but the evidence was too clear.

"You attacked Ivan tonight because of it." she continued. "But I didn't see what actually happened. Why did Katya say that Ivan lied?"

"Because he didn't say anything," Dimitri admitted reluctantly. "I attacked him. Unprovoked."

"I don't believe that. Even if he didn't say anything about your mother, something made you think that he was taking blood - or that Katya was giving it," Malina pressed.

"I was wrong."

She paused, considering. When she spoke again her voice was deceptively gentle. "So if it was all your fault then why did he lie?"

Her tone was so reasonable that he almost tried to answer. The complications of where to start saved him. "I don't know," he said instead.

"Dimitri," she continued, her tone still soft but more urgent, more dangerous. "Ivan _lied_ for you. You attacked him and he's _protecting_ you. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know!" he repeated, pulling away from her.

"I think you do!" she snapped, her frustration breaking. "Dimitri, there's obviously something you don't want to tell me and I've done my best not to push, but I think it's important and we don't have any more time! What exactly is your history with Ivan Zeklos, why is he so determined to be your friend, and why is he putting himself on the line to protect you?"

He shadowed his eyes with his hand, an unconscious gesture that usually helped him gather his thoughts. This time his hand brushed painfully against his injured face and his own frustration spiked further. "I _don't_ know! I just know whatever it is it's not what you think. He's _not_ my friend and whatever he's doing it's nothing good."

"Why are you so positive you can't trust him?

His father handing him his first American Western - not for a birthday, not for a holiday, just a considerately chosen, kindly given gift - flashed in front of his eyes.

The infirmary loomed but Malina stopped, blocking the path. She crossed her arms, her stance solid, containing her anger. "Who knows about your mother giving blood?" Malina demanded, pulling him out of the flashback - one, in its own way, that was even more unwelcome than the rest.

"Just family," he answered automatically. "Katya," he amended, not wanting to hurt Malina again with references to their closeness, but needing to be honest with her where he could. "A few others probably suspected or guessed. But no one has ever said anything."

"_I_ would never say anything," she said dismissively. "Does Ivan know?"

If Dimitri was completely honest, he couldn't be sure. "I don't know. He seemed to. Maybe he just guessed."

"Who knows about your father?"

Dimitri felt ripped open, vulnerable, but he answered what he could. "Family. Katya. Doctors. We _couldn't _tell." He tried to explain without explaining. "No one would believe us."

Malina flinched hearing Katya's name again but didn't comment. "Does Ivan know?"

"I don't know," he answered again. "Maybe. Maybe not." For reasons he couldn't examine too closely, he tried to be fair.

"Who knows about your beating up your father?" she asked more gently.

He looked at the ground. "No one knows. His guardians told the hospital he'd been in a car accident. No seatbelt. Thrown from the car." He allowed himself a bitter half smile. He'd done enough damage that the explanation was plausible.

Her next question came carefully worded, and even more carefully delivered. "Could Ivan _suspect_?"

It was his turn to flinch. "Possibly."

She moved, coming closer, and he froze. He could anticipate a sparing opponent with near-perfect accuracy, but he couldn't guess what she intended. She stopped inches from him, her hands coming to rest flat against his chest.

"_Thank you_ for finally trusting me, about your mother, and what you did to your father," she said, frustration telegraphing through the pressure in her hands. "I just wish you'd trust me with the rest."

He moved to shake his head but instead just lifted his shoulders. He _wanted_ to tell her, wanted her to know everything, wanted to stop censoring his every thought. She now knew more about him than anyone in the world, more than even Katya, but even more now, _because_ she knew and accepted and believed so much, he couldn't risk losing that over Ivan Zeklos. Not even if the guardians came to expel him in the next moment and he never saw her again. "I'm sorry," he answered finally.

Her hands curled into tight balls. Her body coiled. She didn't push him, but she didn't step away. "Did you really believe that I'd tricked you?" she exploded. "That everything between us was a lie?"

The warmth and pressure of her hands seeped through his clothing, into his skin. He thought of the excuses he could make, how he could explain his horrible behavior, but he owed her an honest reply. "I did." He admitted. "But I wasn't thinking. I know you would never use your magic to hurt me - or anyone." He _did_ know her, he'd been beyond foolish to deny their connection for so long. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

He looked into her eyes, her face so close that she was all he could see. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you," he said. He ached to brush away the stray curl laying against her cheek, to cover her tight hands with his, or even to just pull her into his arms. But he didn't presume to touch her. "I'm sorry I didn't trust my feelings for you," he finished quietly.

She dropped her hands. "I guess that's something." She almost smiled, but he could see the effort behind it. Her frustration spiked again. "But it doesn't really matter. There's no way they'll let you stay and you won't tell me enough to let me help you!"

"It wouldn't help," he said, still honest.

She didn't answer, but she didn't look away, and he couldn't bear to leave things so close yet still so broken between them. "If by some miracle I can stay I promise I'll make it up to you."

"That's a big promise," she said, her voice tight.

"I'll keep it," he said.

She tilted her head, looking at him with an expression he couldn't read. "Okay." she said finally, her frustration still present, but muted. "Let's go in and see what happens."

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!_

_Another Queen of Overthinking Things note - I know in VA Rose said "tell me you beat the crap out of him" and Dimitri gave her a sly, sad smile that grew when he answered, "I did" - so that doesn't quite fit with my interpretation that Dimitri almost killed his father when he beat him up. My explanation is that at that point in Dimitri and Rose's relationship there was attraction and the beginning of feelings but not love yet, so Dimitri wouldn't have been as completely open with Rose yet. He was also trying to show himself in the best possible light, like we all do when we like someone, and admitting that he nearly killed his father wouldn't have been as positive. He's also older in VA and has worked through a lot of his issues from being raised in a home with abuse, and his father did recover, so how much damage he did isn't as much of an issue once we get to VA. _


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